How like dreams now the days too fade, dream poem by pd lyons


Last night I had a dream about you.

Nothing major.

We just met face to face.

You were telling me about my grandmother.

We were outside in the sand.

I was surprised you knew her.

I  never knew she went to Mexico.

It was hot.

We sat down at a rough grey whiskery  table.

Yes, you said and she rode very well.

A bright grey horse among the caballeros.
“And tequila ?” I leaned towards you tete-a-tete  ” What about  the tequila…?”

 

But the scraping sound of speeding traffic brought me into this morning.

 

And I wondered Why Mexico?

I was always a bit afraid of Mexico –

Suddenly Last Summer

We don’t need no stinking badges,

Maryse Holder Give Sorrow words,

Comacheros,

Decapitations decorating the highways…

 

But when I was a kid –

Zorro.

Bands of silver trumpeters.

Hat dancing.

Cielito lindo.

raw silver jewelery, grumpy looking straw cowboys, hand bags made of alligator,

those souvenirs sent to my mother from her favorite uncle, 

United States Army Air Forces navigator.

 

And why you?

I had called you Jan.

You had written to me about my own work.

I had admired yours, especially the Creation Myths,

Hoped someday you’d do an audio version.

 

How like dreams now,
the days too
fade.

 

Re: Ethel Pollard Lyons

Thanks to Donna J Snyder for telling me

 

Picture 011

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Comments

  • Donna J Snyder  On May 1, 2015 at 4:39 am

    I love the dream logic, the concrete and original details, and that my poem and I have a role in it, although I’m not sure what I told you.

    My father was a bombardier in the US Army Air Corps and was stationed near enough to El Paso to visit the v Juárez jazz clubs. He was a Yankee, from PA, and v it was very exotic.

    I’m planning to record that poem. I’ve not forgotten your suggestion and appreciate the encouragement.

    Very cool poem, Pd. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pdlyons  On May 1, 2015 at 9:25 am

      it refers back to itself – you told me about my grandmother. my mothers uncle survived the war but was killed in an accident while transporting munitions post war. he was a father figure to my mother. sent her things from all over the world – Egypt, Mexico, France etc. I still have a few trinkets. kinda interesting our USAAF and mexico connection…. i am happy you thought well of the piece.

      Like

  • Donna J Snyder  On May 1, 2015 at 9:00 pm

    I thought that might be what you meant, what I told you in the dream.

    The imagery stays with me. As I tried to sleep last night–And tequila? What about the tequila?– kept floating through my head.

    Yes, I like the poem very much.

    I have another predecessor contact with Juárez. When my mama was 16, her brother was in the army and temporarily stationed at Ft Bliss here in El Paso. She was from Loco, Texas, up in the North Texas Panhandle, near Wellington. Her family drove down, maybe ten hours by car. This v was years before she meet my Yankee daddy, the handsome flyboy. Of course she and her family walked across the bridge to Juárez and bight Mama a pour cotton, hand painted skirt, fill and flares. It’s red with black designs painted on in the shape of flames. When I was young I wore it with a black peasant blouse and block boots. Now it is part of an installation art piece on my living room wall.

    Thanks, again. Dreams are magic. No one ever called me Jan, but my middle name is Jo, and I’ve been called plenty variations of that.

    Like

    • pdlyons  On May 2, 2015 at 11:27 am

      thank you for this lovely story

      Like

  • pdlyons  On September 15, 2016 at 11:46 am

    Reblogged this on Pdlyons's Explorations.

    Like

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