.
Your dream that you just told me about,
where we went dancing on a frozen lake
in the middle of July
watching fireworks explode
beneath a canopy of linen scarves
raking leaves of orange and red
while new daisies bloomed
under the fresh fallen snow
coating the sandcastles we had built earlier in the day
beyond the dunes and circled in flip flop prints
in the fresh concrete sidewalk
poured outside of your neighbor’s house
on a Saturday in the rain,
catching candy thrown from a parade float
of paper flowers and moving dragonflies
parked along side the dinner
as we shared a chocolate milkshake
and a slice of pie?

Did we kiss at anytime during your dream?

If not, can we fall back asleep again?