Trafficking in Dreams, a poem

courtesy of morgueFile

courtesy of morgueFile


We sat on the worn stone steps of summer
on salty Brooklyn nights in Dyker Heights,
senior year pending, pregnant with promise.
Hours of sipping cokes, jamming sessions.

Stan on drums. Tony played keyboard.
You sang bass and strummed a new guitar.
Your saucy sister chorine sprinkled star dust.
We were just kids trafficking in dreams.

You’d drive me home at curfew in your
dad’s blue Nova, into a violet dusk, the
maple shadows standing guard by Mom’s.
Now gone. Gone, you and our old roost . . .

No more of your music. No old friends.
Just meandering the strangest streets,
mumbling something off-key, strumming
the memory of you, a new guitar, and the last
of the summers when we trafficked in dreams.

“Of love and summer,  you are in the dreams and in me …”  Walt Whitman 

© 2017, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved


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We continue with the current recommended read: On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder. Left, right or center – American or not – it’s a must read.

LESSON THIRTEEN: HINDER THE ONE-PARTY STATE “The parties that took over states were once something else. They exploited a historical moment to make political life impossible for their rivals. Vote in local and state elections while you can.” Prof. Snyder,  On Tyranny, Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century


Go to art, not war.

Poem on …

11 thoughts on “Trafficking in Dreams, a poem

  1. Touching and beautiful, Gi!! I see you, the gorgeous teenager you were, turning everyone’s eye…”a young Sophia Loren”, they said…in Brooklyn…our dreams so different than those of our parents, our futures so unsure, our hopes soared. My wonderful Gi, a lovely little writing that has brought back a whole lifetime! Beautiful!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A wonderful poem Jamie. I take it you did these things when you were young. Must have been a good time. I was so tied up with a sick mother and over all family was difficult so really didn’t do such things. I was kind of a wall flower and not very social. One of my really good memories was cruising with two of my girlfriends in the upper part of town where the well to do people lived. We were trying to get a look a a boy’s house who lived there. We were giggly and silly but had a good time. Be well.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Those years are hard and I think we pick certain special events to keep us strong as we mature. I’m glad you had some “giggly and silly” days. Sounds like the jumping off point for a poem, Renee. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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