I dreamt you in my sleep last night,
Sat on the tracks slicked wet with rainwater.
Your face was a speckled rose, kissed by warm starlight,
And I could see every smirked line cast by your smile
That stretched out like crescent shoals across your face.
You told me to follow you on the tracks
That reached out over the galled river,
And led back to where we used to be.
In my rooted sleep I wondered
Why you should want to abandon the present for the past.
I followed you along the tracks
And the bridge charred with dust and memory.
You stopped over the grousing river,
And your crystal face began to change.
You studied me closely with glazed eyes
That conjured spiteful ghosts in their reflections.
The sun didn’t shine on your face anymore,
And you became like a gust of fog that left too quickly.
When I was uprooted from my sleep, I understood
The damning paradox of blissful dreams.