How is it three years, and I still have the same dreams? Can you explain that to me, lovely sparrow? Clutching olive branch and yew bark Grabbing in the dark for cold water, sweating down the glass Bitter chlorine and calcium built up on the face Mineral finger-paints, broken down with linseed oil and worn palms Your eyes behind those old glasses, working clay on the wheel Such pride in glazed pots collecting rain on the patio Paving stones laid in sand, the last few crooked on account of the cervesa Dry in the mouth like panting dogs, deadweight collapsed on threadbare carpet How do we convince ourselves that it is desirable to be alone? I hold you in my arms in a dream, whoever you are Pulling all the strands out of a wicker basket, creating uselessness Chattering keys on a laptop like shivering teeth Coughing, faceless, men, the embodiment of misery in this night The most beautiful pair of eyes I've ever seen, what other secrets lie beneath that hijab? Just a passing glance, most of the people we see, we will never see again How is it some make such a profound impression with nothing more than a smile? Lying under the Joshua tree, surrounded by dirt roads leading nowhere in particular Warm water mingles with the sweat on your lip A sigh that send chills through me The restless wind, nothing more