In the wind
with nothing
In my pockets
and it's getting dark.
I've walked twice
Past this same tree
with its distinctive
Mottled bark
And I'm lost.
It's not like
In my dreams
Where I have
Knife and matches
Not that it matters....
When it's too dark
I'll have to stop
And make a shelter
To ward off disaster―
And that's the problem
With dreams
when it's your life
That's in tatters.