lost in translation

at first I bought a book.
now I have the internet

to help me search

for meaning.

not the
Meaning of Life.
nothing so profound.

anyway,
you won’t find that in a book
or on a web page.

No.
I search for the meaning
of
the dream.

I take no stock
in dream symbolism.
interpretation,
not especially.

like astrology,
you hear what you want to hear,
see what you want to see.

But some dreams confound
so completely, profoundly,
that you can’t just let them be.
and so we read
the horoscopes
and tea leaves.

you’ll laugh at the dream.
everyone does.
I laugh, too,
except when I don’t.

Maybe you should see
the symbolism first.

it will seem silly.
after.

life seems tough
annoyed by obstacles
not being able to deal

a “new start” in life
choices and opportunities
freedom

using others to feel good
negative feelings
expectations

that’s enough.

as mentioned,
I take no stock.

little stock.

The room’s edges are darkened.
the seating area, lighted by halogens
high in the open rafters.
bright and clean.

the space feels re-purposed
like it used to be a gym
or a warehouse

the floor is AstroTurf in kelly green.
sounds tacky, I know,
but it works in context,
encompassed as it is
by the white railed fence.

chickens sit at round tables
draped in white linens
eating, drinking,
conversing.
doing what chickens do
in a nightclub
built
just for them.

I walk to the host station
and am met
by a large, white duck,
le maître d’, bien sûr.

I ask him to relate
something
to the diners.

what I ask is
immaterial.
the issue,
immediately obvious to me,
is that the duck is clearly
saying something else
in a language I do not
understand.

The duck and chickens
laugh, uproariously,
the joke
at my expense.

my anger boils.
repeated efforts,
demands, to get
accurate translation

all in vain.

I leave.
furious.
mocking clucks and honks
left behind.

It ends.

this dream.
hilarious.
humiliating.
haunting.

you see why I seek meaning?

perhaps,
and most likely,
it means nothing.

Then again,
maybe
it means
everything.