dreams

are white puffy things

separated, by sunlight.

I tried to snatch one up

in my lunch sack, for my own private picnic

on a red and white table cloth.

We ride bikes together

intertwined, like race cars

hoping

for the checkered flag

to finish on.

My dreams are erotic

symphonic

that’s why I don’t part with them

I make love

to them.

I don’t know why

we let our life force die

instead of bringing life

to our dreams.

a cloud

can become a million things

a monster, in a nightmare

a woman, with wavy blond hair

or me, doing my destiny

in that island, in the sky.

then the wind blows, and it vanishes

nobody knows

why

pressure?

changing currents?

I’m never going to let my dreams die

I have my head in the clouds.

One thought on “Head in the Clouds

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