Dreaming of Tuesday’s Parties

Dreaming of Tuesday’s

parties, glorious rippling

colors, all manner of

food and gaiety, strangers with

strange stories, big ridiculous hats,

cacophony of singing,

and drunkenness, lots of it

spinning, hours disappearing

under the weight of the night

and slow dancing whispers,

all versions of us

unwilling to believe in a

dawning Wednesday.

Is this too a dream?

I dream so well, so deep,
sometimes I can’t tell the dreaming
from the living. The rooms are both blue.

Have you ever thought you awoke, only to
find you were still dreaming? The clocks
on the wall melt like Dali.

When you say I Love You, the words seem
slow. If I reach out to touch you, will you
still be there, will you still be?

je ne sais quoi

Dreams like

Shadowy walk
ways – dreams
like slipping
quietly through
a glass mirror.

On the other
side, this small
fugacious life
reflects a certain
je ne sais quoi.

Watch your body

like your lover does,
watch your mind
obsess over
smallest things like
dirt under nails.

Recognize yourself at
your soul’s oldest age –
we all have this ability
if we choose it.

love lost (never had)

love lost (and never had)
reappeared in a dream
the same car my driving hand
pounding nervous on the leather
of the steering wheel
while the other
twirled with your left in air
-the space between, unspoken-
fingers of each folding
over again and again
palms pressed and teased
together apart together

until you leave, step outside into
a space of darkness
and i double over myself
in the wrenching realization.