Caolan I think we dreamt

that man on the train

with the transistor radio

drowning out our fearful

chipper chatter of suicide

tattoos no one gets

reception underground

no one listens to static

and shakes the newspaper

no one is that old & bridgy

(keep an eye out for all that

is fascist, even inside us,

and also for the suicidal

and the demented)

no one goes to grad school

in the Bronx and in New

Jersey at the same time,

that is dream logic where

all the twos become one

he touched me as he stole

my seat I said naughty

Charon I've reached the

terminal, don't touch that

dial