1962
in a blue brooklyn room
hospital gowned, electrode crowned
malcolm drifts into dream
while in a distant room
agent waits his turn
now, the envelope unsealed
the target revealed
maimonides dream laboratory
will the things I see be the things you dream
see a white-walled building
patient upstairs escaping
wearing white, a doctor’s coat
fear like a tightening at your throat
not quite right here, not quite right
down a twilit hall I go
how does he know, how does he see
the Corridor at Saint Remy