the ghost of Americas past

I fell asleep to the T.V.
and "dreamt" of a snow-storm coming
of revolt in Egypt,
of the nervous, loaded stock market,
of unfathomable amounts of oil
passing daily through the Suez Canal

Thick frost bit at my window,
as the chill overcame my heater
and slid through my blanket

Outside,
a man or a ghost
or an idea was dying

He'd fixed wagons and cars,
held women,
contemplated the news,
saluted officers,
and penned letters

quietly drunk
5 miles out of town
(rejected by the shelter)
he shivered and shivered and shivered
through the sleeping bag
he wouldn't need anymore

I woke up
and adjusted the heat