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wounded
Poems
Feb 2014
you //
i had a dream we were holding hands in a blockbuster video store.
everything was made of wood.
i had a dream we drove across country
and stopped at a bridge to stare at the sky.
your hair was brown. your hair was draped over the passenger seat.
you held my hand again like you meant it.
i was a window for your fingers.
i was something else while you pointed at an airplane
and stretched your body to it.
you thought you’d never get so far.
i hung out in a mall parking lot while you became the stars.
when i woke up the longing still wasn’t gone.
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wounded
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