DAY(DREAM) # 5,106 Poem by Alfred Schaffer

The classic shoot-out.
And with so much competition too
it's bizarre, it makes my balls tingle.
I stand on one side and on the other side
there's me too, only the leaked version with a cold.
The albino smurf cut out of The Smurfs
and somewhere else I forgot.
Tension crackles like a fire in a paper factory.
I take another really good look -
how fat I've become, god almighty, I'm not solid.
Like a dictator in formaldehyde.
Between us a boundless expanse, a concrete polar region.
Actually just a mixture of sand and grass
no larger than the back garden I used to lie in.
I see myself thinking but that's not my body
that's not me, I would never grope around my jacket pocket
for a mouth organ
to play a foolish little tune on.