Clings to me like seaweed after an ocean swim;
It meows at the back door, begging for a bowl of milk and a scratch behind the ears.
This dream is a broken record.
This dream is a drop of water stuck in my ear — and no amount of hopping and ear-slapping will shake it loose.
This dream is a foreign movie with no subtitles.
It’s my daughter before she learned to talk.
This dream is an unsigned letter;
a ringing cell phone;
a spurious fiction.
This dream is the costume that an actor just tore off between scenes.
It’s a PA system in an airport
calling you to the counter
and you’re not sure why.
This dream is a ship on the sea when the wind picks up.
This dream is the ship
and the wind
and the water
and the waves.
This dream will carry you
wherever you need to go.