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An artfully altered black-and-white photo of Stonehenge.
“Stonehenge, ’91” — C.Birde, 5/2

Don’t.

Don’t ask me for directions

as you slowly drive by,

one of a long line

in a ribbon

of cars.

I walk

barefoot through downpour &

darkness at the road’s edge;

mud & grit & gravel scour

the tender soles

of my feet…

Ahead,

Stonehenge lifts in pale light…

I stand

at the striped carnival kiosk,

sorting paper scraps from

nickels from bright gold-

foiled chocolate coins;

unable to purchase

entrance.

You think

I know the way

forward?

I think

not.

— C.Birde, 5/22

2 Comments

  1. Okay, this one is just wacky. You’re walking barefoot down a gritty street littered with idle vehicles?…and then you walk right up to Stonehenge to enter a carnival/circus tent and take the job of ticket/fare counter, in which you separate candy coins from tickets and real coins.

    Hidden meanings…like Athira said. But, I am struggling to make sense of it all. [Yeah. I know. So, why do I try decoding these dreams?]

    Yet, the notion of you resisting the urge to give directions suggests a direction to take through this mystery. What could that direction be? You attended some kind of tour or event which touched on history, hence Stonehenge, but bothered you in some way, causing you to bristle and not want to participate/be helpful. It sounds like a childhood memory from a time when you may have had an interest in ancient history. Or, a childhood memory converging with a present-day situation and a memory from a distant past life in which you were able to visit Stonehenge.


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