It was a good trip or maybe <br />It was a dream she couldn’t <br />Quite tell it seemed all sensibility <br />Was pretty much muddled and <br />Her last realistic memory was <br />Hodgson giving her a drink and <br />Then things just seemed to dissolve <br />Into a swirl of images and sounds <br />And feelings of falling and being <br />Lifted up and put down and some <br />Clown trying to do things to her <br />Which her mother had said was <br />Not the thing that good girls did or <br />Let be done to them and a thought <br />Pushed itself through her mind <br />And poked at her and she saw her <br />Brother drowned in the bath with <br />His thin wrists slit and his few paintings <br />Left behind hung on the wall of his <br />Room and inside her as she lay someplace <br />The unfolding vision of his distraught face.<br /><br />Terry Collett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-trip/
