Last night I dreamed I was playing Eve,Some watered-down version
As in a K-Mart circular
And asked my brain, while still asleep, to dream about something else cause I was bored and disgusted
The great thing about lucidity: it even tells what’s trite to fuck off
And the mind knows when its time is being wasted on marketing instead of real meat.
I don’t know what truth is, but I do know that it’s not for shitty dimensions and it won’t have its time wasted in high school angst.
My dreams have commercials in them now.
What to do?
Go back to Square One, the TV show, relearn the math,
How equations work
Learn how to check your work
Instead of vainly asking others to check your homework when an adult, wasting their time,
Or waiting for likes, hearts, stars, nods, 👍🏻, 😀 for ego purposes
Or standing by while the best things in life become commercialized (what results from apathy and fear sixty-nining each other)
Or be eternally damned into the hell of waiting for approval
And there’s no Eve for Dummies book
Or Calculus for Dummies
(Or if there is, there shouldn’t be)
Or a Writing Blog Poetry for Dummies
Or a Hugging for Dummies
But there will be.
Just give it time.
Privilege is inserting commercials into my dreams, my dreams of you, privilege, that nasty beast of an enabler who allows me to get by on deciding what gets to be real.
Taking you away from me
And I can’t stand by and let it
(But I already have)
So all there is to do is go back to basic math, open the Course III math book from the class I failed two years in a row and only graduated in time because of the .5 in the 64.5 I got on the Regents exam,
Do the problems alone
Twenty years later
And tell myself that I’m good enough
And learn to love that as truth
And I’ve lost you
And that won’t do
Because all we ever had was time and each other.
Come meet me in the dark high school classroom and bring that precalc book
And we’ll both laugh at our teenage awkwardness that we’ll always have.
To me, that is heaven.