They May Change Faces

In the waking world he’s lovely

But he really is a dick in dreams

So very consistently that it’s become something of a tell:

If Jolly Dan plays the part of douche—

well then I know my surroundings are amiss

And that a dream has fell

Like when I invite old Ann to have a sup with us two

And I say “it’s about time the three of us got together”

But Jolly Dan merely stands and stares

A face of mighty pissed glares

And then leaves abrupt

Or when that same Jolly Dan brings his love

To an ornate cinema palace as in days of yore

“This must be Sylvia?” I surmise

“No. It’s someone else,” Dan answers, pissed all the more

“Oh?” I ask, with a mighty grin

But he only repeats his blunt phrase, all sense of jollity wiped thin

One more example, in case you believe me not:

I’m resting in his abode

But my friend is strangely distant

Jolly Dan says not a word, and then rushes down the stair

I rush after, to see how Ethiopia did fare

“After all, were you not to be gone a month?”

“Dude,” says Dan, “I fell in a hole.”

And there it was

A fine reason to be put out, but for an absolute change of role?

Ah, I must be dreaming

For’n Jolly Dan does prove a douche, there’s nothing else for gleaming

And so were all my schemings

To simply end any such nightmare

By taking note of Daniel’s fare

But on one night the trend did break

And from the dream I ceased to wake

For hours long, with toil and strife

Amidst grave themes of death of life

Which started when I called him up

And said, “Have you heard about the cities?”

“Yeah,” replied Dan, a bit melancholy, “They’re not they’re anymore.”

And truly they were not

Minnie Apple, and Saint Paul

Struck away by the Thunderball!

I’d receieved word early

That there would be

A nuclear bomb dropped, ‘bout half past three

And in my car I then did race

To beat the nuke and save my face

By grace of God I made it home

To ol’ Hutchins and my mome

These things were strange, but Dan seemed well

And so it could not be! No dream to tell!

This was real inside my mind!

A terror’s uprise then to find!

But not before we took in meats

And so I asked him in our seats:

“Where’d you like to eat? The place is yours for the choosing”

And as though all time was losing

Jolly Dan swift swung the car— like it was an action movie—

Into the parking lot of McDonald’s

Which stands not in our real world

For in our world the spot is a Veteran’s Park

But in this dream it rendered not a bark

I only scolded Dan for his lack of taste

And what could’ve been grand was laid to waist

Our bellies full, we rode for ruined ‘skirts

Of the towns we loved since youthful hurts

And on the way did speak

Of a dream within this dream wherein we both beheld some freak:

Of an assish classmate, demon turned

His name was Ty, I think

And one night after a show down at the rink

He shows up in my own car, racing by with sickest smile

So me and Dan chase him mile for mile

To roads I’d not seen for many a day

Determined to make Ty Rogers pay

“Seriously, you’ve got to stop,” say we, “It feels like you’re trying to kill us”

“That’s the idea!” screams Ty with a cuss

And then he transforms into some black leathery beast and kills us

“Yeah, that was creepy as hell,” says Jolly Dan, remembering

Now we are in present tense, and tempering

For we come upon towns overrun

Deserted in the midnight sun

Despite the blast of atom’s rip

That green building on Lexington did not strip

There we park, await a van

Of supremist folk who seek to kill Jolly Old Dan

For Dan is black, these folk are of terror

Against other races, and that accounts for their bomb

Now Dan and I hope to send them to hell

But how we will do it, we cannot yet tell

The van comes near, I track it on our phone

Of a sudden we feel so very alone

And so we rush in to the green glass tower

And find a sole desk clerk alone at that hour

We plead with her:

“Hide us from the terrorists, please”

She shows us the way to’n apartment with cheese

And there in the closet do Dan and I hide

While gunshots cry out in the green glass so wide

Luckily the kind-hearted desk clerk had said

“If they come near you, say WEREWOLF, it may save your head”

And so as the masked men open the door

I put my hands up and say “Werewolf” galore

They glance at each other

Then nudge one another

“You’re cool,” they say then

Removing their masks numbered ten

And what a surprise

Most of these white supremists are black

Doesn’t make much sense; the logic does lack

But because we said “werewolf,” we sit on the floor

And dream up the future, and what is in store

Now Dan and I frame their minds

Their goals and ambitions to other targets and finds

We, now all together, are planning something big.

Perhaps it was the vast technological resources

Of that once bold terrorist group

That led my friend Dan and I to the land of the soup:

The 1950s!

As it was in our nation

To encounter young family members, in some strange presentation

But before long, something’s truly amiss

Our faces not our own—

“You may change faces,” we were warned, but heeded it too little

Now in a lightless room we’re sewn

With insectuous masks while plays a haunting fiddle

We try to take off the masks, but they’re stuck on quite

With gooping acid dripping down with a bite

But this horrifying transformation is not our final state to be

For after being insects, we turn to thee:

Lucille Ball, and yes, Desi!

That is the final doom of we.

To be Lucy and Desi

But in cheap plastic masks, you see…

At that time I woke, and hounded myself.

Why did you not wake sooner?

Clearly things were strange.

Clearly things were dreamlike.

Clearly all was impossible beyond belief.

“But I’ve an excuse,” muttered back my other side. “For Daniel was a proper friend through all of that. And so it seemed to be real life.”

And then I fell asleep once more, for it was the middle of the night, and I was in sore need of better rest.