Lost in Thought

Thinking I don’t feel like anything’s slowing down for me
yet, bolting out of a house of wood and stone, gone
from where we would argue until the stars turned black
about whether it’s good to be here on earth, and if so,
alone, with you soon to be struck dumb about what’s up
when you think your father’s dead, and then, shocking you,
he comes strolling into the family barbeque not a ghost.
But it was a dream, right, only a dream, so then why
would you dream something like that? How could you
possibly envision something so terrible in your sleep?
Were you possessed somehow for one night, standing
on the side of your mind’s road with no ride by him
this time, making your way across bad sleep by thumb?
Sorry, what did you say? I ask the one who picked me up.