Weird Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Weird

No doubt that dreams are strange
Hateful, can be, happy, and sad
Mine in this morning was nameless
I searched in dictionary, found “weird”

I was hired as a bus driver and had
Already driven, for one day at last
Was next morning, went to work
Instead of office, filled with addicts

A man was passing on money
One big bill was in green
“What is this? ” I asked English
Not the dialect of where I was in

“They can’t be drivers and office”
I thought, departed, decided to leave.

I left, half way I met a Cameron
Hugged a classmate of university
We were in Toronto, but yet not
I left him, and to work I walked

The drivers had left as had the payer
In reporting for the work I was late.

What is such a dream if not weird?