Last night I dreamt of flying around a tall green lady holding a giant ice cream cone, except it doesn’t melt. No one watches The Wizard of Oz for the portrayal of Kansas farm life. It is for the dream. For Oz. For feeling and singing. Propping birds in the sky with the sunshine over the rainbow is a fine feeling.  But from the corner of my eye, I saw a woman drowning in the very same air that kept me afloat. I knew that it was me. Should I save her? I heard a voice saying don’t look back. I kept on flying. I let her drown.

I wrote this poem, thinking the nightmare would go away. But it didn’t. In fact, the laugh track that carried it along got a little bit louder. And the accompanying music, I found a drunk band of clarinets took over the bassoon part.

Just like in a movie, emotions are cheap imitations. The drama, unnecessary. I already know your act. Just pretend. A role. But in the end, it is who you really are.

When Ilari Pass isn’t writing poetry or short stories, she recites Ayahs (verses) from the Quran and enjoys traveling with her family. A three-time Best of the Net nominee, her Greatest Hits appear or forthcoming in South Dakota Review, Writer’s Digest, SWWIM Every Day, Pithead Chapel, Free State Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Paterson Literary Review, and others.