Dream in Albuquerque

Nine minutes is no time. Yet
we made a whole world inside

those buzzers. Until you jostled me
beneath watermelon mountains

while I muttered the contents
of some dream still swirling.

It was midday. The cast of Lost.
A tattoo in my palm. Who knew

I could shake you with a number.
I remember your matted hair,

hands curled in mine. You asked
why I’ve shared no vivid dream,

but share this. You’re frustrated.
Pissed. All I can claim is this place,

wide open space, time twisting in
the wind like a whistle. I meant

no foul. Simply shared because
it was there. This life. With you.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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