Dream Walker

In this dream,
like other dreams
I'm naked again, walled in
by sneering smiles
and cat calls.

Men gaze down the path behind me,
hoping some nubile young gal
will soon begin dreaming, too.

I ignore the titters of younger
women, breasts like ice-cream cones, 
toenails painted blue.

An old flasher opens
his raincoat in support,
family jewels limp and dark
against one shriveled thigh.

Gloria joins me, aviator glasses
pushed high on her graying head,
then Vanessa, traces of Camelot 
still bright in her footprints.

We become an army of aging 
dream-bound women, hearts beating
like war drums together.
Eve apples of a different sort
are thrust into our hands and we eat.
A rainbow washes over us, removes
all traces of shameful illusions.
The flasher applauds.

Water tickles my chin and
I wake in my overfilled bath
to the scent of shampoo
and one rainbow filled bubble
rising.

Pris Campbell
©2013

In MiPOEsias Bubble Bath Issue, Feb 2013

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