I only think that I am awake
in this recurring dream in which
I live another full life.
Peopled with persons past
and continuing conversations,
taken up where last left off,
I am all ages.
At once bicycling on a trail
through the aspens,
and riding in a Ghia
with my sister
along the Russian River,
while cotton blows across the highway
west of Bakersfield
and doves murmur to me
in our secret language.
Cats run free
silently.
Lightning illumines
all of the books
read while sleeping.
Every touch returns to me,
a heart’s caress
left carelessly,
recklessly,
an empty sea
moves quietly
and still I dream.
What seems a lifetime
in just one night time
convinces me that my waking life
is a dream
that daily haunts me.
- Peach
1:45am
April 3, 2009
Written inside the Gates of Arlington in Virginia.
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