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By Abogada Submitted by Abogadalbny Date: 2007 Mar 24 Comment on this Work [[2007.03.24.23.24.21201]] |
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We always start Saturday mornings at the coffee house on Union, No matter how early we get there, there’s still a line. I kiss you quickly before going in the store Handing you my little black poodle’s pink leash Which you so dutifully carry Looking sexier still, as you watch after a little girl dog With the same caring that you display Watching after me. I’m third in line now and I look back See you knelt down beside the dog, talking to some Man and his children, as they pet her, and you smile-- We’ll walk from here up to the Farmer’s Market on King Street Where we always get vegetables for the grill And flowers for the table And admire the art, but never buy any. Later, I fall asleep outside, in the sun. And wake up telling you that I had that dream again-- Where I am alone, somewhere South and hot Driving a silver convertible And living in a penthouse And the dog and I are without you-- You kiss my cheek and suggest that I lay off the Pisco in the afternoons. I pull you close, kiss you on the lips, and laugh—(thinking that it was so real) Happy real life Is much better than those dreams. |