Jimmy The Lock & Dream

Gone Gladys jimmied the lock and dreamed
fast of escapey type things, no recollection,
no crawl of past, just a movie of all want,
filmed with stuff and places and nobody
she knew in it, all available! Even the sun
hung temporary, like she could remove it
to hang over the blue sofa, or in her garage,
or hand it over to a lover, a bum in a box,
her Grandma, whoever, meaningful things,
free if you had heart enough for the cash
laying a couple hard yards from a window,
easy as morning, a new language awaited
as she could talk in money, or in objects,
in things actually in her hand, instead
of a magazine or a blur of want or sex
on TV that she almost saw, always felt,
She could float, and wave to everybody
as who she truly was, in pictographs
sprung loose from grimey skull walls,
in a metallic “SPROING!” “Oh, yes,
I have all this!” she’ll say ”I once lived
so unadorned, I don’t remember why.
It was courage bought all this, and fast
hands, grace. Now I have identity, not
missing limbs, unknowable name,
no credit, toxicity of being discounted.”
Yank the cashbox! Or you must believe
in reincarnation to pay for this waiting.