Dream – March 1991

It’s embarrassing to say.
Sounds like I’m boasting.
Like I‘m sensitive.
Like I’m a conduit.
In touch with a higher plane.
But my dream is nothing to boast about.

He keeps his distance.
When I approach he retreats.
Shyly diverts his face.
Doing whatever it is he’s doing.

I get diverted.
Never get close enough to touch him.
Never get close enough to see his eyes.

I dream about him but that’s embarrassing to say.

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