Waving Curtains

First time to move away from home.
Not a good living arrangement,
but some place to stay.
A singlewide mobile home.
Wagon Wheel Trailer Park.
Doña Ana road.

Quiet, sitting in a corner chair,
in the living room
by a window,
double pane slid upward.
Pleasant, cool breeze blowing
through the screen,
blowing a thin, lacy white curtain
in front of my face.

In a void, a trance,
allowing the curtains to wave
over my head,
tickle my ears, neck and shoulders.
I think this happened
before -- déjà vu.

The wind, carrying me
through a mysterious dimension.
I waver between
worth and worthlessness.
Curtains stop waving,
snap out of the spell.
Why do these things happen
when I am alone?

Calling My Name

Flashed on a memory
xxxxx in my youth.
Too young to understand,
xxxxx or be aware of
things uncommon.

xxxxx A building.
A school? A public place?
I recall
a long flight of stairs.

xxxxx Alone, climbing
toward the top.
xxxxx Late for a class?
xxxxx Felt someone peck
xxxxx on my shoulder,
xxxxx calling my name.
Was it an angel's attempt
to prevent my going there?
xxxxx I turned around
xxxxx but nobody there.
NO BODY THERE!
Nobody there.