In my dreams, I travel back in time
And struggle to gather proof
Of my visit to return to the current
World. Tossed about in the turbulent wake
Of a passing supersonic jet
My time runs short.
In that last moment, the short
Period between sleep and real time,
I try to remember, to jet
My thoughts into the present. Sound proof
And cold, I wake
Up with my last words lost in the current.
Apparently, the neuron carrying the current
To my long term memory ran into a short
Circuit or dry joint. I attend yet another wake
In remembrance of the images lost in time
Travel. Though I wish to blame the proof
I drank, no other power controlled the alcoholic jet.
One girl in my dream had long, jet
Black hair. Her dress matched her hair in the current
Style. And her boots - I kissed them as proof
Of my affection. Just a few short
Months ago, I knew her not and danced in time
With different music. Will I see her when I wake?
Another beauty lies beside me when I wake.
A prize far more fair than polished jet
Shining on a ring. I check the time
Bomb - 45 minutes. The words come in a current.
I try to bottle them up, but their life will not stop short.
Without a proper final version, I am left with only this proof.
Next time, shall I stay away from the proof?
Some time, shall we wake
Together? Time shall tell. Years become short
And time flies like a jet
In the gulf stream. No current
Flows so powerfully as time.
In short, the cloudy wake of a jet
Offers little proof and is never current.
Time will tell.
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