Listen, I Need To Tell You Something

Inside my dream, a dream.
A cat sunning itself in the bay window.
A small party. Silk, satin, some other materials.

There are strangers who have loved me.
There are lovers who have left me.
I have written tirelessly about both.

Fast traffic. Wet snow. The sound
of acrylic nails tapping on a wooden
bar-top counter. The smell of citrus on your mouth

sipping an Old Fashioned. Once,
we went to a movie and forgot to watch.
Once, we went to the store and came home

with sour milk. I sometimes wonder 
why our childhood bedrooms seem
so much smaller as adults. Perfume.

Hand soap. A song, playing from a spinning
record. Gravel sounding under stumbling
feet. A car door slamming shut. Listen –—

I need to tell you something.


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