dreams are as untrustworthy as old cars and lovers
In my sleep
I touch your face
And you don’t pull back.
Your skin is stubble-covered
And tickles my fingertips.
I gently trace your jaw
And you lean in.
Our lips touch,
Our tongues meet,
This dream is
About to heat up.
But suddenly I
Have green hair
And I’m riding in a VW Beetle
With my Auntie June
Who doesn’t drive well
In dreams or when I’m awake.
She’s taking us swimming again.
Even though I’m only nine,
I know green hair and
Too much chlorine
Wont get me very far but
I don’t care.
The Beetle flies down
That warm road with
Dust swirling in the window,
And Auntie June
Singing for all she’s worth.
We get to the pool,
Only it looks like a lake
And the lifeguard is my boss.
I feel freaked out
And think maybe he’ll fire me
For the bad hair day
Or leaping in the pool
When I’m suppose to
Be at work.
I can only hope
He appreciates
Family obligations
Or the consequences
Of hiring child labour.
I do hand stands in the water
So he can’t see my face,
When suddenly the
Whistle blows,
The splashing goes quiet
And the sounds of dawn
Eject me from the pool
That is a lake.
The boss is wearing a suit
And stalks off to
Straighten things out
While Auntie June
Wheels down the lane
In her blue mobile
Until she’s just a speck.
I lay there, still
In my bed.
Eyes closed,
Sheets a-rumple
As the morning
Crowds night-time
From the room;
That shape-shifting dream
Is just a hazy blur
But my lips and fingers
Remember the fire
We almost made
And they find your
Unshaven face
And then the rest
Of you.
saffronsound 