Take a Peek

This is one of my "dream" poems. I remember the sensation of waking up in a strange place (I'm dreaming this, remember), being asked by some remote, impersonal voice to produce something that would identify me.

I knew there was this slip of paper in my billfold, but I couldn't find it, couldn't, in fact, find my billfold. I kept searching and searching.

Then I woke up. The dream would have been lost, had I not scribbled something on a scrap of paper as a reminder.

I don't usually dwell on the meanings of dreams. Sometimes they mean nothing more than the excesses of a late-night snack. Or they may reveal deep-rooted frustrations, unattainable goals, hunger, thirsts, fears ... all the makings of a poem.

Still, I try to save them all. I don't always manage, but I try. And here's today's:

TAKE A PEEK

My billfold
contains a slip
of yellow paper
with the name
of the President
written on it.

I feel secure
having it with me,
like a number,
next of kin,
to be called
in an emergency.

Perhaps someday
after surgery,
responding to
trick questions:
What's your name?
Who's President?
I can say,
"Take a peek
at my billfold.
There's a slip
inside. It's all
I've got left."
© 1995
(originally published in Potpourri)

Today's word: identify