home was tha city, that much is obvious
but because all this was happening in a dream
I don’t know where I was riding from
hell I don’t know if it was even a bus
could’ve just as easily been an airplane or an amtrak train
but it was probably a bus home from a protest in DC
except for the fact that my father was randomly there
and getting my protest on
ain’t no family activity
but he wasn’t really saying anything
so maybe he was a figment of my imagination

i was sitting in the vicinity of
an ex-Black Panther
named Jesus
that’s not Jesus like it’s pronounced hey-zeus
but Jesus, like gee-ziz
like our motherfuckin’ lord and savior,
ya heard?

He wore black-tinted sunglasses
which covered eyes
that were probably smart-lookin’
cuz he seemed like he
knew where it was at

his daughter was sitting next to me
maybe her name was Nicole
maybe it was jesus too
or maybe too was instead
but dreams don’t hold no stock in grammatical constructions
she was probably about six years old
but really she was less than an hour old
cuz she’d been born inside my head
and I ain’t never seen her before
but, although she was naïve
she was kinda sagely in an innocent way
so maybe she was an aging guru
maybe she was jesus
cuz I’m sure if jesus was around nowadays
he’d be chillin’ with his pops
and tellin’ Bush to go fuck himself

she was cute
had two dreaded pigtails that stuck straight up into the air
very extroverted little girl
laughed a lot,
laughed high, laughed loud, with scrunchy dimples

I think that red hot chili peppers song was running through my head
in a world that’s this insane / I don’t think it’s very strange
for me to be in love with you

it occurred to me
I don’t know whether they told me
or if it was just understood
that they didn’t have a place to live
so I told them they could live on
my hippie commune
even though I don’t have one of those
yet
maybe in my dreams, I’m a few years ahead of myself
maybe in our dreams, we all have our heads in the clouds
maybe in my dreams, I’m a good-for-nothing liar
or maybe I was mistaken, and merely referring to
some other hippie commune
that only omniscient dreams know about

so I probably spent the whole ride home
laughing with naive Nicole
and discussing political science and revolutionary strategery with Jesus

the laughing probably made a lot more sense than the science
because dreams are kinda like reading
Marx on crack
while you’re tripping on acid
except you’re not reading,
you’re dreaming
and what’s a dream
but a tapestry of laughter

so the bus pulled in at 96th
and, inexplicably, I started walking home
without saying bye to Jesus and Nicole

sometimes in dreams, we are so inconsiderate
sometimes with people, things just don’t work out

when I realized that I had ditched them
and that I had promised them a mellow joint to crash in
I retrieved a GSP tracking device from my pocket
that I’d never seen in my life
and, due to the omniscience of dreams, I found out
they were in Alphabet City

So I went to Alphabet City
I doubt I ran there
cuz I run really slow in dreams
kinda like I’m floating, kinda like I’m stuck
and plus, it’s more than 5 miles out of my way
but I doubt I drove, cuz I don’t got a car
nor a license, nor the skill
and I doubt I took a cab, cuz I don’t swing that way
and I doubt I took the subway
cuz I’d probably remember it
and, hell, I’d have to switch trains once or twice
and still walk 10 minutes
to get as far east as the alphabet,
but just trust me, I got there
aight?

While I was en route
I got the sneaking feeling
that they were dead.
Maybe that was just
overreaction to Ditcher’s guilt
or maybe it was
clairvoyance

I think it was when I reached Avenue B
or maybe C, cuz Tompkins Square was nowhere to be seen
that I saw them both in a beat-up car
Jesus at the helm, whaling down the street

I wondered how they had a car
since they was so homeless and all

then I saw the car crash
hard on into
the pump of a gas station,
although I don’t think there are
any such stations in the area

immediately medics and coppers were on the scene
they swooped upon Nicole, and rescued her from the compressed car
she was screaming, and, most queerly
she had become an infant
wearing nothing but a diaper
(this was probably cuz I’d been reading
Bingo Under the Crucifix just before I slept).
Since she was crying, I don’t think she was dead
which made me glad, but sorta confused

All of a sudden
an animated version of Martin Luther King
appeared on the scene to welcome Jesus

My first question was:
Is this a happy ending?

My first prediction was:
now Jesus and King will team up
to free the all those oppressed
by racism and capitalism,
but then I realized this wasn’t the sixties.

So I figured
Jesus had died
and the Doctor was gonna lead him into heaven,

but isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

All of a sudden,
the dream took a commercial break!

some blonde honky chick
wearing a green cashmere dress
who, for some reason I thought
had been Jesus’ wife
a virtual Mary Magdalene
reaping fame from his demise,
was discussing her modeling career
with her voluptuous sidekick,

cheesy easy listening music began to play
the camera began to roll
and watched her change from her green dress
into an identical red dress,
always careful to pan under her temporarily exposed breasts
so no one would see,
and then she changed into an identical blue dress
and then a purple one
and then I
(I don’t know whether I was blowing up spot
or if I was the fuckin director or something)
interrupted the commercial
and stepped into the frame

Now I could see her breasts
and they looked mighty pretty,
but she complained that she didn’t like
being naked in front of the camera
so I turned to the voluptuous sidekick,
who offered, “I do!”

and so I removed her dress
brought my mouth to her breast,
and she said, “I’ve never gone sloppy
while being videotaped before”
this made me self-conscious,
and I hoped that I would perform well
if her pleasure or lack thereof was going to be recorded
and so I licked her luscious nipple ferociously
and my head slowly began to sink
as if I was the one regressing into infancy
into her
flush, plush breasts
firm as
skin, soft as
a pillow;
and I felt / something so familiar
yet so distant / happening

I jolted from sleep,
and woke up
not on top of a beautiful woman
but rather on top of a sticky puddle,
so I immediately did a push-up
afraid that my seed
would soil my sheets
(because I like to sleep in the nude)

I groaned,
“none of this would’ve happened if I didn’t quit masturbating!”
plucked a piece of paper from my printer
wiped the jissom drooling from my rabid urethra
and wondered whether that had been
a happy ending