I slept as the doorbell rang.
When I rose they were gone.
A sweet earworm sang and sang.
Was it really no one?
The day raced by as days will,
A bullet from a rubber gun
With only duration to kill.
If I can’t remember dreams,
What I forget of life are dreams until
Remembered (when they seem
Like hammers and bangs).
But most often they gleam
Afar — frozen gilded boomerangs.
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