OUR FINAL DREAM

I had my first dream about you
since I last saw you:

I had just pulled into the lot,
and you parked in the spot
opposite of me.
I should have pulled through.

I should have pulled through,
because then
I would have never seen you
again. I wouldn’t
have started talking to you.
We wouldn’t feel
the need to catch up.
You know I hate small talk,
speaking when
I have nothing to say.
Despite what I know,
I have nothing to say
to you.

You took me
to an outdoor mall
and walked me
to a toy store.
On one of the tables
there was a figurine
intended for no child.
The little black man
in overalls
was dangling his fishing pole
over the side of the table,
waiting for a bite.
He stood with his hook
hanging, with his frozen face
of pure pleasure,
as if the whole sea were below him
—but below him
were my two feet.

Before leaving…
before I woke up
you said you were glad
our relationship didn’t become
a real relationship
because I was so boring,
being with me
would have made you
kill yourself.
Seems a bit drastic,
but…

I’m glad you’re not dead—
that would have been
a nightmare.

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