Today I followed a red Honda
from Bonita to Durham. It was moving
under the suggested speed of the road,
and curt speech slipped out from under
my tongue. It was an older model,
dirty from the roads it has traveled,
two old and obese passengers driving –
or was it driving them? Human and metal
seemed passive. Around the review mirror
showing what was behind was a dream-
catcher. A woven circular net made by the first
lovers of this land to keep the dreams of demons
and loneliness far from the sleep of the small
and dreams of drought and stampede
from the heads of their warriors.
Made to catch the fears that sneak in through
ears overnight, it swung from the mirror,
foreign yet complacent. How many dreams
did it catch in the scalding light of day? How many
fears did it let through with the confusion of the dawn?
Did it work in the daylight’s warmth
or did its power only press through the night?