Hey they're called dreams cause they're not true right. If they where then they'd be reality. Now, what right do I have to make my dreams real.

Who am I to say that I can be a backpacking beatnik hero. Who am I to say that I can live entirely on the kindness of other people. Who am I to live love like a sonnet.Who am I to fuck during my sexual peak.

Just because I had the dream doesn't mean that I can have it. So much for fatalism. Look, all I did was stop looking at myself in there mirror asking how I got there and started answering with another question. Where are you going?

I haven't really bothered much lately looking in mirrors.

I've been busy with the scenery.

Have you ever seen Las Vegas?

I couldn't have made this town up if I tried

They rebuilt the pyramids the sphinx, new york city, the Eiffel Tower, the city of Venice! Just for kicks they beam the brightest light on earth into the sky every night— just to say We can. They've harnessed the Colorado River, carved words into rock, words like power, electricity. They have inhabited the sands of the Mojave with a fertile oasis. If this is not the stuff of dreams I don't know what is.

Hell they even have live nude girls.

Now, say I wake up in Detroit and I have a wife and three kids a job that goes nowhere except maybe to the bathroom twenty three times a day 'cause I got a problem with my prostate.

Would that surprise me?

No.

"Why not?" you say

'Cause what I'm doing right now is what I imagine those guys would dream about.