Dream, January 2008
We were in a car,
you and me
and her,
crunched uncomfortably together,
three people tied
by passionate
veins of aching blood.
And my knees curled at my chest
in the middle of the backseat,
your face
and hers
in profile against
the windshield.
It wasn’t raining
though
perhaps that would have been
more poignant.
She didn’t speak
to me,
only gave me backwards looks
as if to say…
oh, I don’t know what she’d say
if she could say anything to me:
in the dream,
she spoke only to you.
And there I am,
sweating in the backseat,
tears piercing the corners of my eyes,
and I can’t say
anything.
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