Letter to Sam

In the last 24 hours I dreamed of a disagreement over nail polish, poetry books not selling, a home invasion, a dragon who wanted to talk about one of my books, a brain in a jar, violent unrest in Washington DC, me getting shot in the hip, a strange man answering Chris' phone and telling me he's not available, a cab driver who accepted $2, some foreign coins and strange carved tablets as fare then turned into a frightening woman involved with Chris' disappearance -- and lastly, being woken by a dream (in my dream) in my dorm room at the AWP conference (which I don't want to attend in the "waking" dimension).

Sometimes the most beautiful moments in life are when we shut the fuck up. It would mean a lot to me if you agreed.