CHRISTIAN KIEFER

I tell you now: there are no epiphanies.

Shout! Shout, Ukrainians!

This morning I am abruptly shaken from sleep the my clock radio singing “Shout!  Shout!  Let it all out!  These are the things we can do without!  Come on!  I’m talking to you!  Come on!” 

I have been pulled from a dream.  I am leading two young Ukrainian exchange students on a dawnlight tour of some town.  There are many people in the streets and some of them are celebrating.  For some reason, once of the students wears a face mask of the kind worn by doctors, only hers is so small that it barely covers the opening of her abnormally small mouth.  There are a group of people jumping up and down in a circle shouting something.  In the dream, I think it’s a fraternity of some kind.  A local college perhaps.  Then I feel like perhaps I’m the immigrant and they are the ones leading me through their strange Ukranian town.

I’m not sure what to say about this except that the mind is a strange thing and going from that weirdness to Roland Orzabal is a second weirdness.  My day is shattered into glass.


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3 Comments

  1. nice to see from previous posts, that you are back at poetry.

  2. my god i used to love that song. thankfully it carries me not to some Ukrainian town, but rather to middle school dances, which somehow in my mind encapsulate nearly all of what it was to be an adolescent boy.

  3. Champagne says : I absolutely agree with this !

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