i-Dream
I awoke with an image—
I was shackled to an I.
A horizontal I—
lying like a crossbar.
I was attached by a chain,
or a large looped-lock.
I wasn’t sure if I was instructing myself to do this,
or warning myself of a danger,
a thing I should avoid.
There is no escaping our I.
We inhabit it.
We are it.
Are we inevitably shackled to it?
Typographically the dream I had endcaps.
A nice Times New Roman,
with its hat and shoes
offering obstruction.
But a sans serif I
removes the potential for shackling,
allowing easy escape.
So perhaps there is a difference
as to whether you consider yourself
a serif or a sans serif I.
No matter the font choice,
you can’t shackle yourself
to a lower case i—
the gap between body and head
a space for flight.