Scenes From The Parallel Universe In My Sleep Poem by Sarita Brown

pop pop pop
go the guns in the street and we are alone
in a naked room on a dark
alleyway
and i am silent.

he brushes the blood from my face.
its not mine.

there are people screaming everywhere and what
you cant describe is the total helplessness at knowing
you will not get to them in time.

this was planned for but unexpected.

while he rubs my back frozen with fear,
i think;
we are scapegoating the world and we are scared to live
because we are afraid to die and you have to choose which one will
be your master in the end. which dog will you feed and which dog will you
kill and why and why
and?

he blows a soft breath on my neck where he
has laid his head. not from weariness but sorrow.

he loves every speck of our dust.

how, in the face of all this destruction,
he manages that, i just don't know.

which is -thankfully -why he has the job
and not me, i guess.

'what makes you say that? '
he murmurs in my ear, almost asleep.

'we rode into town on the same bike,
remember? '