Oona was in it, as she is in all the ones I remember. 
Why I was lying on the ground in front of the house, hiding my face
In that gigantic cushion mom and I used to use when we watched the old roundscreen Zenith T.V.,
I'll never know.

As I say, I was lying there with my head dashed hard into that cushion and waiting for the tenants
When Oona came walking by, not noticing me one bit.
Yes, oblivious to my existence.  Pisses me off, that.
And, anyway, I had to act the landlord, so I was too busy to call out to her.

And the dog was there, I remember, Sheppy Number Five. …
Doing his nosing your crotch routine, and the lolling tongue routine. …
You couldn't get into that house without doghairs upon you, I now remember. …
Spot of bother, what?

They were in there, in various states of dress, unpacking all these boxes — seemed like eggboxes.
They were reptiles, the lowest of the low.  The women with hair on their upper lips.
But they were the only tenants we could get.
I had to give them a good once-over.
I was the landlady's son, the landlord being dead and all that,
They were throwing the eggboxes on the stairs to the back entrance.
What kind of parents are these?
Sheppy Number Five followed friendlily, nosing everybody's crotch.
I lectured them (kindlily, for you do not want to lose them unnecessarily)
On the etiquette of fire safety, on the need to think how a child thinks, etcetera etcetera.
Some way to make a living, eh?

When I came back out the other way, Oona was walking by, now going the other way.
I thought she did not see me, so I put my head down, not trusting anyone anymore
(Except, of course, the talking animals).
I was not ashamed.  Why should I have been ashamed?
Well, I put my head back down into that brown cushion for all I was worth but it didn't work.
Next thing I knew, I was looking up, and Oona was smiling down on me,
Like a nurse, like a lover, like an angel, her face so pink and smooth
That I was lifted up to heights — at least my penis. … eh wot?

Well so anyway we didn't even have to make love I was so in love with her,
The only creature who was ever nice to me before she ran away —
Not a vicious bone in her beautiful body. …

And she asked me many questions and I told her all the answers,
About how I was the landlord, or anyway the landlady's son, and all about the reptiles,
And Oona was so impressed with all that responsibility she seemed to love me more than ever
And she told me that she ran away from that other guy, Jersey City Joe, and was free now
And we went upstairs to where mother was, to have tea and discuss things
And I was filled with apprehensions. …
When I told all this to the doctor he said that this dream was the same as all the others.
It didn't remind me of anything.  There is and can be only one Oona, right?

He said it was more complicated than that.
He didn't want to bore me with the details. Oh, yeah! 
But it’s him who gets to hear all the intimate details, wot? About my innards!

After saying many things I could not understand, Doc leveled with me:
This was not a mere dream, this was more important. …
What?
No, he said, this was really a proposed dream.
Maybe, I answered, it's my fate — Oona and my mother and the dog and all that. …
Well, if it's a fate, he answered, it's the fate of a poet.
What? What?

Shit, I said in reply, not that, not the friggin' fate of a poet!

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Check Dr. Lawrence Nannery's Poetry Collection:
"Translations from the Cinema"
You can download them for FREE HERE!