from Turn Left at the Dead Dog:
There are dreams
that belong to you
long before you know what to
do with them.
You are memory’s steward
so that when
a dream comes, it is
as the comics say
déja vu all over again.
It’s not the first time
since childhood
she’s been on my mind
The big blonde, sheathed in
black
singing into the studio
microphone
back when
Jazz was a thing supreme.
Remote then, behind the
glass
not to be touched, a
porcelain doll
Inviolate.
Now she greets me at the
Shipyard’s gate.
My head bows as sunlight
bursts off her platinum hair.
I just know behind the
tortoiseshell frames
there are sapphires
glistening on her face.
Then she smiles at me
Teeth couched in fuchsia
lips.
For me time stops.
I am awake.
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