(Note: refers to a time when, awaking from chaotic dreams of medieval chaos and ruin, I recalled a happy memory to calm me. I remembered a time at the lights in Newmarket with my lover, when she asked for her ‘drug’, and I kissed her, thinking impulsively she meant ‘me’. Two guys in a van behind us clapped – such romantic spirit? My lover explained after that it was a cigarette she meant. In the poem this memory is translated into medieval garb from the dream traces).
Carrouselled past Shavian
Flowersellers, to days of when
Medieval knights and damsels
Fled from evil sights to castles,
And past bombardment of quaking towers
The last enchantment, for waking now,
My dreams have gone, and I’ve lost the battle,
And streams of consciousness now grapple
With thoughts of sleep and safety’s shore
For fraught with deep pangs greatly more
Of love and loneliness, my mind
A dove on a lonely quest to find
Of when we
Reminisced when, on trusty steed,
The damsel was kissed, when just such a deed
Was requested of the prince, who confused the words
In the message rather, since it amused the bards
In the minstrel troupe behind, who clapped for more
And the damsel looked blind to what the kiss was for.
Not a kiss was the request for the task, nor a hug,
But for Turkish cigarettes when she asked for her ‘drug’.
And awakening to memory, I welcome reality.
In taking you with me in my dreams, you are in me.