Monday, October 19, 2009


The dream wakes me up. It's about you and me and her. It's you and me on the island. Flying over the ocean. And the same thrills - guitarists at the airport, shell necklaces, the smell of the air, the looking, left and right, your wonder, your shoulders...the fact that The Devil can't get us here...though he did still, didn't he...

But it's her on land. We take a bus trip, and you're not there but she is, and she does not sit beside me. She takes position at the rear of the bus, beside an innocent boy and I watch as she lets him touch her, fall for her. Is she a game? Is this really happening? The dream is hurting me. I look away from her, sick, and all I know is, I'll be back at the resort soon, and at least then I won't have to watch...but the resort is far away, fading, and instead I wake up and it's midnight emotion which sweats the lonely bed, and distance which makes the stomach grip.

That and the question...
*** *** ***?

I'm crying when I open my eyes.
But I don't know if I care anymore.

The cat takes its chance to move further up the bed.
I try to fall asleep.

I've tried a lot of things.