Across the Street

It is funny how you wake up from a dream

when you do not want to

and that fucking alarm

has the worst timing.

Look Aysha said, he’s across

the street. I squinted, I let

the rain wet my hair. He has 

a message for you. But he’s dead.

No he isn’t. He’s right there.

Then I saw him. He stared at me

with his familiar clothes and

cute cap and his unforgettable look.

I waited for his thoughts to enter mine

like in that stupid move, In Your Eyes,

but nothing. Now I have to guess,

ponder all day what he meant

to say. His constant beyond the grave

obscure meanings, quotes,

sayings, life affirming opera

selections.

I have so many estimations

but all lead to the bridge

I almost crashed into

last night in the snowstorm.

I got nothing.

I see everything.

He did not want to cross

so that tells me

what my heart

knows to be true.

Do you ever see the dead

and wonder why you?

Do you ever light the candles

and watch them flicker?

Do you ever question

artistry and love?

It’s only my right breast

that needs

love

the rest of me

is doing just fine

with snow tires

and edits

poetic lyrics

to get me by

but when you told me

about your mom

my insides were ripped apart

for your pain.

I feel the heartache

and shock

I end up reliving mine

and even if you are

tired of reading me

I will never stop.

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9 thoughts on “Across the Street

  1. I was nodding in agreement with almost every line.
    We all need an outlet for this excess “baggage”. If we don’t let it out, that’s when the weird dreams start happening; or maybe that’s just me 😛

    Liked by 1 person

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