Somewhere along a highway
Among palm trees
I had pulled over for the night
With a travel partner
Familiar but unidentifiable
In the morning light
We saw a monument
In a semi-classical style
To brave boys on one side
And on the right, a dove attacked a battle.
A visitor said, “I don’t understand it.”
I said, “Yes, I would prefer it to be more inclusive.”
Wrapped only in a sheet,
I took off my shoes
As I spoke to a guide.
“Since you are a teacher,” she said,
“Perhaps you can explain what happened to the atoll.”
“Atoll,” she said, and pointed off-shore,
“It used to be rented to the Thors.”
I wondered if she meant Heyerdahl, the explorer.
“And it had a waterfall.”
“Technically, it’s called subsidence,” I said.
And going through one exit
I hobbled across gravel
And found one shoe
And went through another exit
With a feeling of having been here before.
Awaking to my second sunrise
Maine’s birds loudly and insistently chimed the hour.
Labels: poem dream