Dream On;
Purple, fluttering clouds float by...
I see you standing precociously on the waves.
You do not see me.
From now on, I pretend not to see you--
See you, and your wandering feet,
Your ponderous tail-like toes spreading in the sand.
You seem strange to me.
I cannot guess yet what you truly are.
It could quite be that you are a single enigma,
A blood-red stain on mine inner eye.
Cousin, line-stalker,
I forgive you for upsetting me.
But do the sparkling gulls?
They waddle here and there along the beach,
Irking me. Why can't things be real?
I dislike me curiously, the way I talk,
The way I think things out of nowhere in the gloom.
You smile at a snail that circles your feet,
Cheeks like roses cutting at the dark.
What are you? What is this?
Why is the sky the color of tanned, leather skin?
Why are my fingers shrinking like clothes left too long in the dryer?
Why can't I walk in a straight line,
And why is it that everything seems like a well pampered desert?
I ask you, stranger, my darling,
I ask you: why am I here?
What is my purpose?
Is this real?
Or am I merely just part of someone's imaginings?
