In San Francisco
I had a dream
that no one noticed
when the trolleys
ran the wrong way
and completely missed
the stop at Union Square.
Instead of going to work
people went home and
chose to eat peas for
dessert instead of cake.
At the dinner table
they spoke of the universe
rather than politics and
believed in themselves,
settling for nothing
less than perfect.
I headed south to
Oakland and everything
seemed so alive for once.
The people were the
happiest I've ever seen.

I woke up by your side
the next morning and
watched as your hands
shone like silk in the sunlight
coming through the
room's only window.
The dream resided in those
hands, if only I could
touch them without
waking the dreamer.