Lunch at Wasabi

Rewinding a film in the Eighties.
The hum of the projector
retracting all that imagery
may now seem anachronistic,
since we no longer retract

anything, but store it forever
in deep cold to preserve it.
Last night I dreamt the three
of you lunched at Wasabi,
our favorite Japanese restaurant,

and agreed in sprightly terms
that you were glad I wasn’t there
to gloom all over the table.
This morning, rewinding that dream,
I flash it backwards against

a bold sky ravenous with storm.
The pain of your brittle talk,
although I don’t recall the words,
rakes across the lawn, stirring
the first leaves fallen from the oaks.

The season of buffered effects
has arrived. With it, the sighs
of mostly depleted hurricanes,
their special effects akin
to the excess of dream-life.

None of you will confess the true
colors of that dream. None
will hear the projector humming
in my head as reversed film slaps
frame after frame into storage,

perhaps until global warming
reverses and an ice age
renews our faith in each other
so we four can lunch together
without an inkling of gloom.

William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire (USA). He has published three critical studies. His poetry has appeared in many journals. He has taught writing and literature at Emerson, Goddard, Boston University, and Keene State College. His new poetry collection is A Black River, A Dark Fall (Splash of Red, 2018).

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