Caught in the crossfire
Of nightmares and dreams,
The passing place,
When we’re unsure which is which.
Faces, once familiar,
Distorted, slightly wrong,
Appear from the haze at contorted angles
But in unpleasant ways.
That is where I sit
Attempting not to judge
Lest judgement is passed upon me.
Soon the dream train will come
From one direction or another
And I must decide whether to embark.
A lone ticket sits in my void of a pocket, I think!
I dare not reach in,
Dare not avert my eyes from the moonbeam rail track
And those faces that bid me goodbye