I Dreamt Last Night About Moving Furniture Into My Childhood Home

Many dead friends were there to help

Mark looked remarkably good

You’d never know he drank himself into the grave

We paused for coffee—

Me and two ghosts

Having just moved a pool table

To the dark room of my boyhood

I recognized they weren’t living men

There was a blind man there, not me,

And he had a dog, not mine,

In the cafe

With red curtains

My twin brother

Who died at birth…