Have you ever had a wet dream?.
You wonder, how does it fall?
How does it flow?
Is it a river that meanders, or is it
An ocean that undulates,
Or perhaps a tsunami that billows?
Perhaps it is found in the river’s
Riparian zone, where bamboo thickets grow
Or perhaps it is a watershed,
Or maybe a billabong?
What process explains it you wonder
– can it be percolation,
Seepage, irrigation or leeching?
And you look in bewilderment, at that woman
Who you always see at the supermarket
And who looks at you sheepishly, perhaps
She flows through like the surfing tide
Or a rush of white water.
You look back at the dream
You realize, you are a dam builder
Who built a dam in the path of a sultry woman.
And still somehow, deep into the night,
She finds a way to you
You’re covered in dew and the wet dream
I suppose doesn’t end there.
It finds a way from your skull
To where it all drains out.
And your pajamas are wet.
And still you haven’t figure out
How a wet dream takes her course….
And you let it all be, like the sap of maple,
Or the permafrost beneath the earth,
Or a fine wine inside cork
Or a succulent cactus plant
And so I conclude; a wet dream is just
A pipeline from an aquifer,
And a pipe-dream at most.