the smell of bacon

the dream
comes to me at four a.m.
it startles me
awake.
i'm in a barn yard,
in the mud.
pigs are everywhere.
fat pink
pigs ready for slaughter.
small and large
with their wiry tails,
glassy eyed.
they are all
around me,
snorting in their pig
like way.
one large one seems
to be running the show.
large and onerous.
I try to escape the mud,
the pen
that i'm stuck in,
but they keep me there,
they bite and pull
at my pants my
shirt,
my shoes. they want
to devour me, these
pigs.
I hear laughing.
mocking me. telling
me i'll never get away
and be done with it.
perhaps my love of
bacon has put me here,
put me into this dream,
into this
crazy nightmare.
who's to know.