Locked away in a vacant room, shut away from the light, a secret handshake sleeps unaware of the imperfect world outside. A sliver of a dream stirs somewhere deep within, moves across a thin line, pulls back, and goes back to sleep. The light shifts, it is ten minutes before the rain, and the sun comes up on another day in his perfect world.
I look out of my window, it’s a clear day and I can almost see forever. The haze hangs behind me, the wind is high and the sun shines down on the imperfect world around me. There are no secret handshakes here.
So I pay attention to the details. There is a plate of sandwiches on the table, a beer can tucked away into the fridge, a potted plant on the window sill. There are random images on the TV and outside a few kids are grabbing some ice cream that will melt and mess with their minds. There are marbles lying on the floor in dangerous disguise, and wind chimes swaying lightly in the breeze. And somewhere out there, there’s two cups of coffee, a smoke and a runaway dream.
The haze behind me moves up and around, as I pull shut the curtains, shut out all logic, and step into the vacant room. I am now in the perfect world. The thin line, a bright red, is easy to spot. So is the sleeping handshake. The sliver of a dream stirs once, sits up and stares at me. I look on as the stare turns into a smile, which becomes a laugh. Soon the laugh turns into an evil raucous shriek. It then very quickly folds over itself and melts back into the sleeping handshake. The rain comes down as I step back into my room, as the sun sets on another day in his perfect world.
The sun comes up again in my world and I pay attention to the details. There are no secret handshakes here in my imperfect world.
Only two cups of coffee, a smoke, and a runaway dream.