Night; the City; rain; afoot. My friend
Wade stops to pick up a parcel. Huge awk-
ward slow. Now he staggers a block
behind. A squall. I hate to stand
in drench. Ask Linda "You got a key
to his flat?" Yes. Inside, robes of blue--
Linda and Wade's guru. I want to see
his aura. He hides. I yell "Hey you!
Guru in Blue!" He shrieks, weaves through
Pillars in Hall, flees that staring Pupil, me;
Toddler in Terror. So what do I do?
Eye in Pursuit, I mimic his Rug-Rattery--
Chase, flail my arms and yell "BOOOOO!"
At his front door he fumbles the key--
Squeeze-slam! Locked in. Sealed safely away
from nightmarish Seekers--Spectres--like me.
Next time I'll question a warmer hue--
if Hot Bodhisattva will ever appear.
Is it a nightmare, when it's you
that seem your own dream's worst fear?
