“The lights stay on
but the room fades out.
This is not noticed until later,
when the room returns,
more real than even the reality
of novels and films.
I drive my submission
like a beautiful icepick
into the bedspread of your life.”
—John Perreault, from “The Lights.”
The Paris Review, #Poetry in issue 39, Fall 1966: http://tpr.ly/I9lExy.