about the sense of a lost dream

Your body stops metabolizing after exposure—fever, suffering, no help through difficult hours remaining you put a thousand ideas in the universe nobody could see you. Certain a borg is a sign your mind is gone to flicker yet next season approaches as memories get thicker of teens in the garage 5 feet into the rain. Keep rounding until past is as big as a house and I cannot see these curled dimensions.

 

Electrons annihilate the charge and burn down the distance between us two stars.

something about a peacock

The sun dominated on the last day of spring. See the peacock coming, her flag folded, her flag of war, which looked the same as her flag of love, so you never knew whether she was flying the one or the other. She marched all the way across the clearing, as she often did in the hours when shade was short. Her space—her destiny—was where the sun meets the earth, all mass and energy.

 

about a dream that sticks with me

One Sunday morning I was sleeping late and dreamed of lying in bed with X. Lying there, dressed in sleepwear, comfortable in each other's presence, talking. Not about anything in particular—just current events, passing thoughts, and so on. For a moment, my feeling wandered from intimacy to romance, but that feeling passed and I relaxed again. In real life, I would go out of my way to avoid her. And yet, what a treat was this Sunday morning spent together. I wondered later how I could dream something so in conflict with my better judgment. The reason is probably as simple as loneliness. There are few people further away from me than X, so her being so close meant that everyone else was that much closer.

I know a seagull

I know a seagull. He watches me uncaringly. Sometimes when he flies the sky warms from a restless midnight ink to a delicate warm peach speckled heaven blue. He is overhead now. Hello again, Seagull.

I see only his silhouette. He sees me old, yellow papery skin against starched, white hospital sheets, brain turning watery, back aching. He sees me standing atop the neighbor's woodpile, dressed in Superman pajamas, hands on hips and chest puffed out. Seagull and I, we are lifetime companions now.