The Dream
You carry the dream in your pocket
away from the office, after hours, into the dusk
into the dark
into the empty spot
somewhere near the vicinity
of your heart.
A familiar place,
solitary and still
full of passion.
Where late at night, alone
you drink it in...
a haunting reminiscence,
like a hidden, sweet and full bodied
aromatic wine
that must be savored.
You hold the memory firm
and taste it again,
knowing
it was a long time coming.
The dream.
Your silver truck
under the moon
on a sultry desert night.
A kindred song
from a lonely grill
played in amazing accord.
A lover’s lips
lavishing you with affection,
your heady rapport
swallowed by the stars.
An insistent voice
pulls you
into the dream
again and again.
It follows you through the night
and into the day
like a voyeur.
You carry it in your pocket now,
just as you once carried
a rock from the Nile,
in the ancient days of hieroglyphs
encoded in rapture.
A time when you found yourself
buried inside,
the remains of a romantic man
devouring the scent of a woman
wearing roses.
Today you prolong your reverie in silence,
balance it against
your real life persona.
Face the mirror
and regain your composure.
Return to the comfort zone of friends.
Where, standing at a distance,
you can see each other clearly
in broad daylight.
A remote smile
dancing in the periphery
of your eyes.
The dream
crossing the line
in a flash.
Where what you don’t say
is more important
than what you do.
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