Lucidly Dreaming

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Sticky hands, sticky pen, flimsy paper
all speak of the lucidity of humid summer dreams
even though it’s still only May, it’s coming ‘cause
I can smell it, it’s on and off and the pavement is
full of life, tap dancing, raindrops, melodies of late night
cars - some long nights or some really early shift - lights
floating like ghosts of shadows and here’s to hoping that
when the sun rises that, well, we’ll see it rise
in hopes of better weather today because right now I can’t see
the top of the Rock and my eyelids, too, are sticky, sticky
from not sleeping, drooping, lucidly dreaming in rain-
bows, letters on word processors crawling and dancing
pitter, Pater-son file click save for safe keeping
because the rain is picking up again and seeping through the
cracks on the walls that are dark, but not profound. I can almost see
you in the reflection of the window, which is why I am writing
this half a page for you, because if, when
the sun comes up I’ll look for you - maybe even hassle to
leave a message - but for now I’ll tuck my heart back in my
sleeve because it’s barely dawn and the rain is bringing in
a chilly breeze.

Created: Dec 13, 2010

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postmodernisms Document Media