I dream a lot. In black and white, mostly, but lately they’ve acquired color. The yellow dream is my favorite. It’s the only one I get nowadays.
It starts with lemons… A sunny jug on a daffodil tablecloth. When I look up from my lemonade, I find myself in a mustard field. My heavy shoulders relax. A smile—
Throat sore and tongue sour, I try, in vain, to return. I pop some pills. Blue to mellow out, green to stay focused.
Later, on the balcony, I blow smoke at the moon, tired again.
Back inside, I desperately swallow another yellow pill.