Beacon

[busker]

I don't often remember dreams.

The liquid evaporates in the shower,
or else it remains at the bottom
of the plastic yogurt cups
I toss in the bin
beneath my leaky sink.

The faintest remnants
get trapped in my pores
and stored in the liver
to fester.

Every few months
while driving to the dentist
or waiting in line for groceries,

scaling Kailash in flip flops
after dancing a jig with a pixie haired girl
on the subway at the stop
near my old college dor

This is a clever little poem
Doing impossible things in flip flops, a pixie haired girl, and the old college dorm - these are relatable dreams
The only part I didn’t like all that much was the metaphor of the yogurt cups 
Is a simile more appropriate?
And the part from pores to the liver…not only is it hard to follow the metaphor, but it’s too visceral for the theme IMO