Dreams For Free

You’d think I was dying

With all the things I’ve given away

First were the dogs and the circus they carried

Tired of tents and dirty fairways

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Then it was the chickens

And the carpet of crap they laid out

Drawing in flies making Persian patterns in the sky

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Then it was the moldy books

Their pages and ideas grown too fuzzy to keep

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My dreams?

I’m still holding onto a few

Tucked up in the attic

They don’t take up too much room

And nostalgia for abandoned aspirations

Makes for great insulation

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My dreams for you?

I put them on the corner

With a sign that read

“Never Used”