The Staircase

I dreamed once of a giant staircase.

In a hotel,

In an old barrack.

The entry hall was grand and red,

Gold met with shining wooden bannisters.

And up it went and round and round,

As I stood starring up from the ground,

My floor was only number one

But my foot met with fear on that first step,

Vertigo.

Terrified

I gripped the railing

I sunk down low

closed eyes

and crawling

That climb took hours

That climb took years

That climb took decades

I was so filled with fear

At the top (the first floor)

I was fine once again,

My friends asked where the hell I’d been

And if I could help Einstein carry his books

He dropped some,

I offered,

He shot me a look.

I picked up a journal,

three orange paper punches fell out,

and handed it to him,

He walked off with a pout.

-

This dream

I could never figure out.

I’ve never feared heights

Einstein was supposed to be fun

And three orange dots?

What’s that all about?