Four days, no dreams.
in between,
I forgot some details--
First
a long night
I stayed reeling 'til dawn
stroked sparks from my
electric skin
while outside it rained
(the sleep circuit erratic
now buzzing and humming).
Next day,
in capital corporate,
I whimsied in
erotic reverie,
my breasts stuck out
in open air (I felt
somewhere he knew).
On day three,
there were visions
but no metaphor
to shadow the contour
of subconscious.
I grasped at minutiae,
exchanged faces fitly,
I forced myself to drown
in an ocean once more
to relish in submergence.
Sleep's always been such a tease,
dreaming--no more distant than reality.
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