I dreamed about a thousand zombies orange sauce slithering across once-youthful skin their tongues tingled and licked while I cried out for my mother but she didn’t come and I dreamed about a man who deemed me obnoxious and egotistical over a Chick-Fil-A counter and I can’t even remember why I was driving a car too fast through traffic the horns shrinking, the steering wheel slipping but when I woke I tried to shake it crumbs on a consciousness I wandered a winding road, listened to Tchaikovsky, and smiled while the moon rose but then the bills bombarded the world demanded I pay up, interest rates contracted, fine-print fungus among us the mustache man marked me weak, artistic, sensitive, honest, a waste and the world deemed me too swarthy, my mustache bolstering a thousand bombs along with that name they always butchered I tried to have a dream about something, stars, Coen Brothers movies carriage wheels and balls where I could waltz across safe spaces, covered by bowler hats and John Goodman’s gun with all the moonlight and freshly-dried sheets to sink into along with a smile but a wolf wandered out of the woods speaking in nasal New York accent he tried to grab me with his small paws while I ran and I woke up and washed my wails with Merlot some Malbec, some Pinot, a bottle of Diet-Pepsi in a full glass and tried to waterboard it all but the glass wasn’t full enough
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program. His stories, “Soon,” “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” and “Tales From A Communion Line,” were nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work has been published in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others.