The Dream

P O E T R Y
W E D N E S D A Y

one simple, boring
nothing of an early morning
finds me tossing and turning
in the sheets
i should have washed last week.
the dream is misty--someone’s here.
i know it’s you because
instantly
i’m in that happy, sappy
deep-down-in-the-bottomless-pit-of-our-souls
kind of love.

we embrace.
we kiss.
the kiss turns to crying
and then why-ing.

“Why?” echoes in my head
in a constant cadence
like the beat of my heart.

i open my eyes
to a mockingly sunny day
realizing
the “why?” is the rhythm
that links me to you
yet takes me further away.

I know the question that’s corny
and makes me feel stupid
will never be answered.
and time never heals.

not as long as a simple dream
on a nothing kind of day
can bring you back to me
so real
I wake up and feel
the moistness of your lips,
still tasting the saliva
from our familiar
tongue to tongue kiss.