Dreamscapes

I'm sure this poem has some symbolism in it somewhere, but I have no idea what it means. I just like the sound of the words. The first two lines came to me in a half waking/half sleeping stupor and the remainder wrote itself. As strange as it sounds, there are days when I look back at a poem and wonder, "Did I write that?"



DREAMSCAPES


I went to the Library of Congress on Saturday,
though I was hungry on Wednesday.
Being too short to reach the top shelf,
I grabbed a rainbow instead.
When to my surprise,
out pops a hot dog all slathered in diamonds,
and strutting a snuffy, little tutu.
Gingerly, I smooched the pooch,
but bitter drops of sweet wine rained in my brain,
blurring my vision of the train
as it chug-a-lugged down the ascending stairs.
Grazing raptly into the seafood depths of your mind,
I dreamt that I was not there.

So, I went to the Library of Congress on Saturday,
though I was hungry on Wednesday.
The cop said, “Pull over, madam.
You can’t tip toe through these two lips
without a license.”
Being only violently mild,
I held out the pooch for him to smooch,
but the pooch turned to chocolate,
and absconded with his frothy hair.
The very same pooch,
who gave up his life to peddle bon bons
to skirling hoards of wayward Girl Scouts,
still dressed in his snuffy little tutu.

So, I went to the Library of Congress on Saturday,
though I was hungry on Wednesday.
The dictionary cracked open,
and I espied your beautiful face,
artfully etched upon a pilaster of frozen rain.
My heart flip flopped at the sight of your smile.
Brazen blue lips of the god leapt from the page,
searing my breast with a rosebud kiss.
“Savior me,” I cried, as
I dreamt that we snuggled on the thorns
of a land of forgotten snore.
All because I smooched the pooch,
when…
I went to the Library of Congress on Saturday,
though I was hungry on Wednesday.