Its The Game Poem by Bullion Grey

I'm driving in this small town, it is about 1955.
The radio is reporting Henry Kissenger is talking
with the Russians about peace agreements.
I feel a little disorientated wondering what is going on.

I pull up to a gas station to fill up. I'am putting together a few things in the back of my jeep, when I remember I'm in an advanced Game.
I can't mention it to anyone because they won't believe me anyway.
Then I remember there are others in the Game as well and they are aware that they are in this 'Game'.

Theres a woman buy some fabrics, I wonder is she a player? Looking around at other people I wonder who is in the Game? The thought intrudes in my mind: I'am I from this time?

I feel it is imortant to complete every task so I can play in more fun and complex Games. In a sudden moment I see a Hand come out of no where, the air, to put a special plastic device over my arm at this same time a doctor is about to vacinate me with a syringe. The needle doesn't touch me, thought the doctor doesn't notice, only I am aware.

I remember now I must complete my tasks, then I can return to 'my time' and again be sent back, after I recieve my score, if I am scored well, to return to another time.

My dream ends. (1990)