#2: Pastry and Conversation with Cindy on a Night When the Veils are Thin

C is for Conversation (in dreams)… with Cindy: I found this Dream Poem in the archives. For a year or two after she died of cancer, I often had dreams about my late colleague, Cindy. I thought I’d share it as I prepare for an upcoming writing retreat, during which I’ll be teaching a session on writing poems from dreams–as I’ve done here. (In memory of a friend, co-worker, and bright spirit.)

All the Snooze That's Fit to Print

She looks good

Spiky hair, frosted,

The way it was between bouts

Of chemo. I call out to her

And we take seats in some cafe

Where we eat pastries and get caught up.

“How long can you stay?” I ask.

It’s good having her back

Talking, the way we used to in the office

When we’d sit at the lunch table

Stuff envelopes, complain about the boss.

She’s doing that now: complaining about her boss.

“In heaven? You have a boss there?” I ask.

She nods. I begin to wonder.

“You did make it to heaven, right — ”

She brushes the question aside.

“Heaven basically sucks,” she says.

She tells me she has a little house there, a job that almost pays the bills,

and lots of people to talk to.

“Then death is just like life,” I say.

I’m pleased to hear it. I want to keep…

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