Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Future You


refused to dematerialize. How hungry was the mnemonic
morning after—it came spilling in from every window

irreverently. It was more than the mere doing
of an uncouth youth; it was a need to exist

allusively. It fizzled out, then promptly retraced
its steps into the blackboard eraser in which

this dream is embedded: We're having a drink in a bar,
as friends, but when I turn away, you silently slip

your arm around my waist. Shocked awake,
I'm a character again, artificially unsavory.

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