Saturday, November 18, 2006

My Other Dream

I can't be sure about the altitude,
Or whether we were flying in a plane,
But in my other dream we flew again.
The angle of ascent was slightly skewed,
And there was something primitive and crude
About the flight, and maybe I'm insane,
But I saw, later, through my windowpane,
You had another flying interlude.

But when I ran into the street to see,
And called your name out, you had disappeared.
I looked around — and this was really weird,
Feeling the air swirl past me, silently —
To see you, smiling, in the maple tree
One backyard over, as my vision cleared.

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