Down in a Coral Reefer

He woke from
dreams clouded
with anti-matter
where tree limbs
morphed to octopi
and the line
at the bank
twisted with children
who clogged
the path
to his car
which he never
did find
and stumbling now
feeling no
skeleton
his remaining arms
grab for a suction cup
and the black ink
of coffee
is the only thing
that matters