A Random Counterfeit Of Sweet Dreams Poem by Patti Masterman

a random counterfeit of sweet dreams
leads to the tangent coupling;
thus feeding a voracious hunger
that kills the seed of its plant early.
later, in the deep woods you find
that you've lost your sense of direction
and the scenery's unchanging,
no matter which way you go:
some sorcery has overcome your brain's compass;
now all roads always lead back to the one you first loved,
even though that love has passed into far memory now.
so that each night, you come limping, struggling back again,
into the camp that you hope belongs only to you,
and all your comings are just the same as your goings;
as round and round, you are ever circling
towards the old fires, once beckoned to you,
above the tallest pines and mesas.
the familiarity feels more atrocious
as you know all your paths are so well-worn;
and the tracks your too-assiduous brain is prey to,
so that you cannot avoid the pitfalls,
and you can never escape those feelings once called up.
when the snowfall finally covers you over,
you actually feel grateful
because you know that old love can't thaw
once you're frozen to the quick,
and also the pain of this death, you realize
will be one of the easiest you've ever experienced,
imagining that you will finally be freed from your curse
of picking unripe fruit before it's time.