And So It Goes

She refers to me as her love

I look down at the floor and mumble “good morning”

 I don’t love her back

I think she knows this, but continues with it anyway

She knows that I need her

She knows that my love is fleeting

That I ache for what she gives me

But not for her

I wonder if she remembers mistaking me for someone

Cool

She is still mistaken

I, still, am not

Perhaps I should throw my poems at her feet

Page by page

So she knows I don’t give a fuck

I dreamt once, that lost poems

Were like sex to a nymph’s heart

     But mine were the key to her legs

 I dreamt that beautiful women

Sang perfect songs on guitars

And as I listened, their eyes closed told me

About each note and its love of us

I dreamt once that girls sent me pictures of their cleavage

And never showed their faces

But I knew who they were

Because I was a rock star

A poet

I dreamt that I cheated death, more than once

Only to die, asleep, in a burning building

That I knew what it felt like to be alone

And I felt

Alone

I dreamt once that I felt

That I wrote songs about the way we move

San Jose

And the Wisconsin woods

I once dreamt about what it was like to leave

To die

And to travel

I dreamt once, that I was someone else

That looked just like me

That could love her back without reason

I dreamt that I had never bought an alarm clock

Or cellular phone or anything else that needed charging

I dreamt once, that I was organic

And never needed charging

But I did and I do

So this brings me here, to my love of being her love

     She still calls me her love

And I am not sure she means it

So I say “good morning”

hand her my dreams

And she says "thank you"