When you got Lauryn Hill on the radio, a pen in your hand and a notebook, this is what happens:
It’s kinda hard to pinpoint
when I first knew
something was wrong. Sometimes I think
it was just the fact that
you were there.
Sometimes I think it was
the mirage-like quality of things,
the way heat seemed to be rising up
out of everything.
The night sky quivered like a woman
being fingered by her lover. The asphalt
street moved in waves, couldn’t seem to stay still
as if pleasure was running through her bones.
When I held out my hands, they moved
without consent from me
as heat rose from my pores. It felt like
I was losing me.
This can’t be real, I remember thinking.
I thought you were transparent, not totally there
or maybe that was just me knowing I’d always been able
to see right through you. But
when I reached out to touch you
I felt your warm skin beneath my fingertips.
This has to be a dream scene.
My feet have never so easily sank in the street
like walking on pillows or a deep feathery mattress,
sank so far I nearly disappeared.
But then you sank down beside me and
I knew this was more than just a dream.
It was reality. And when you touched me, for once,
it didn’t hurt. No pain accompanied your touch.
So I just let it be.
Let you be. With me.
In the back of my mind, the truth cowered
in a corner like a scared child, one who knew
that stars are just lamps in the darkness and the moon
is just a child’s drawing seen through a toy viewer
because anything is possible in a dream.
There are unlimited possibilities in the realm of dreams
but there are many truths too, to be faced
when the morning comes.
Peace & Love,