Wake up ten times too early
thinking about you
like that’s what I
was born to do.
River island picnic,
sun on your face,
water in my toes.
Walking to class
with fiery eyes,
waiting an hour
to see them again.
Downing midday drinks,
walking home again—
with you— waiting
in a lobby to see
your smile rise
over the banister,
reading passed microphones,
just to you. Hands
not breaking contact
through snow or traffic,
head on my chest, safe
and simply warm.  I invite you
stay forever.

Then a tapping on the window.
Steel blue eyes turn to mercury  
and freeze with reality.

Surrealism knocks on the door
and walks in, drunk
and clueless.

Never have I held back
so much anger with a smile
and a handshake.

Drive home.
Lose reality.
Burn my own flesh

from the inside out with the torch
I swallowed, instead of trying
to melt mercury,
destroy a demon,
or reveal the truth.