Sacred Fish

last night, I dreamed of that great

fast food restaurant in the sky,

as the multitudes quietly gathered,

waiting for their single orders of

sacred fish;

unfortunately;

I couldn’t wait around, so I walked

out into the night,

alone and afraid, facing the darkness,

hungry and cold, searching for alternatives

to sacred fish, and other forms of

self-hypnosis;

before I knew it, I found myself

in a dimly lit, greasy little hole,

where the only thing on the menu,

were big, thick, black as night,

juicy burgers;

medium rare

of course;

the waitress looked like

she’d been around a few blocks,

hell, she looked like she’d been to

the edge of the moon and back,

so I ordered a couple burgers,

with a side order of head, and

kicked back;

it was good to be home.

.

.