I wake up dreaming, undress myself
to go out into the world. Cars are being
driven in the ditches; the roads are all empty.
On the sidewalks, dogs are walking
their owners on a short leash,
and a thoughtful bee just returned pollen to a weed.
I try to get my boyfriend to look outside — Rain
is collecting back into the clouds. Movies
are playing in reverse to an empty theatre. (Now
is the time to go, if you don’t mind spoilers.)
Cashiers are handing out money. Men and women
are in lines around the block, crying FREE MONEY! FREE
MONEY! A mourning dove looks in from outside,
sees people inside their homes, pouring their coffee
back into the coffeepot and turning it off.
Something has been wrong since Wednesday,
when you called me by the wrong name,
then dropped my hand before crossing the street.
— ANDREA LAWLER
Andrea Lawler is a poet, essayist, and short story writer. She holds a degree in English Language & Literature. She is the founder of two non-profits: Keeping Emmons County Clean & Frankie’s Feline Sanctuary. She currently lives in North Dakota with her three cats.