Flying Dream Number Three

September 13, 2008 in writing by Paul Currion | 2 comments

I am the bullet, your dream of flying.
My path takes me low across the land
“On wings” - not on wings,
I fly on laws of physics, arc and drop,
Closer like a camera until I can’t hold back
The camera lens bumps his nose
Canned laughter erupts in the kino -

This is not comedy.
I break bone, I break skin,
I break people and I break him,
Just as you wanted.
I am not the dream of flying;
I must be that other dream,
The one that ends in tears.

Far behind me, you forget me,
Your trusted messenger,
The dream you dreamt
Seconds before your finger crooked,
Trigger click and muzzle flash.
Now flip the sight, lock the case,
Now roll on your back and breathe.
You look like him, you know,
The man I killed when you asked me to,
Lying there all loose-limbed on the land.
You know too well that one day
One of my brothers might come for you.

(Unfinished on the train, September 2008)