Fata Morgana Of The Half Day At Work

like the trains that never arrive
in the middle of the day
so that you walked home

dismissed a half day from work
a long long way.
turning a page

in your armchair
and waking up later
one hundred years behind

to the middle distance
with your name on it
and the tartan thermos

with the glass lining

these clouds float through your mind
you can't dismiss
erase so hard as you may

leaving holes in the paper
where the stars shine through
the multiplex carbon copies'

bonbon colors: pink mint yellow blue,
old menus you can't use anyway
dance programs mimeographed

waiting for the ghost train

to the ghost job
no longer open for you.
with a violet crayon, your best one

on a large sheet of paper
torn in half
you will draw a place to live in

a magic dog
a fridge full of chocolate
and someone's round of cheese

all you want is a place to sneeze in
far from public view
it's up to you they cry on tv

but its up to God
you say and close your eyes
and wake up on the other side

of dream
where the pink clouds
line themselves up in rows

in a shot silk sky

prepared to drift endlessly away

mary angela douglas 20 march 2017