--- V E N I S E   N .  B A T T L E

I am in St. Paul in a blue house with boarded windows.  My father's mustard work 
boots pace the floor.  He speaks but I can't hear him.  I’m busy reconstructing 
mother’s living room and kitchen.  Two glass tables, an angel figurine, yellow 
flames on a gas stove, suds in the sink.  We are clean people.  I walk out the 
back door, nudge past pimps and drug dealers.  Three teenage girls kick bottles 
and litter the street.  Ponytails, hoop earrings, green plastic bangles and tight 
designer jeans say they’re old enough to matter but too young to care.   In this 
dream, I can fly, so I do and my foot lands on a rat’s tail in a hallway in my house.  
My father is still talking.  "Keep this place a secret.  It’s your property, too.  You 
can sweep and settle here."