THRU THE LOOKING-GLASS

           by Laurie Corzett

Some Sunday Evening

When the sky is still half blue

And Spring is oh so present in the scented breeze,

The mind may take pause from the conventions

             of the weekday world,

Take pause from its frenzied hiding,

Peek from behind the metal barricade of

"No, no. No time for that now."

And dream the impossible, unforgettable dream

That brings man above the machines, into humanity;

Above the burdened beasts -- into gods.

Then, tell me your dream, and I'll tell you mine

(Quickly now, before they're jackrabbit scared beyond recall

-- such fragile things are dreams).

It starts on a pure-white, fine-grained beach,

              silhouetting a wide blue,

              eternal, crystal sea.

A blazing blue and yellow sun-rayed sky overhead,

and sparkling sea shells beneath your feet.

And the sea breeze and lapping waves make the only

               sounds (noisy traffic, heated pavement, not

           even a memory. It was really such a bad joke.)

There's a girl: long silken hair of sunlight,

               long supple limbs of grace.

And a boy

Both clear-eyed, strong-lunged and alive.

See them play.

Air, Earth, Fire, Water

Then transformed above the clouds

In the knowledge of universes

"Here we are to meet our makers"

            -- among them ourselves.

Roll call of the gods and goddesses

               up for reassignment             or rest and recuperation

                        among the stars.

I dreamed I was on Earth and saw a thing called war

                              (shudders) -- a psychic trauma

              to be overcome.

So let us play in our past

              and watch the field unfold

Tanks and Generals and Implements of Destruction

"Why, they're only paper cards."

Pawn to Queen Bishop Three

And check; and mate.

Such silly games we find to play.

I'd rather make love to you.

That's what boys and girls are for.

Slippery union by the seashore

And close your eyes as we make love

               amongst the galaxies.

Let me feel you; let me be you.

Your skin merging with mine

So soft and warm,

              ah, sensation . . .

              floating higher and higher

                       and higher -- beyond all

time or dimension

You know, it's all one --

The rest is a game

A cosmic joke.

"Hear the gods laugh"

You laugh -- delightful.

And now we rest on the beach

              under the bright, warm sun

              floating through black eternity

              amongst the pinbright stars

              4th of July sparklers

              or Christmas tree lights

Softly floating down and down and

The holiday is over.

As Sunday night turns to Monday morning

and

              we don our masks and securely

hide our dreams,

              til its as if they were never seen,

               tightly behind their barricades

               and a muffled "mornin'"

               is all we'll allow in greeting,

               eyes shielded, limbs confined,

                back into our workaday existence,

                 reading the war news

                 fighting our own private wars with the

                         infernal traffic.

The dense fog        descends to hide the sky and sun.

The water's polluted,

The sidewalks encrusted in broken glass.

And, I'd tell you my dream, if you'd tell me yours,

               But --

"Don't be ridiculous,

                  We haven't time for dreams."