a scene I witnessed in a dream (II)

a baby blue bike with a plastic basket in the grass,

and a dry rotten fence.

the sun melted from the sky and orange cream

drops fell to our tongues.

peaches gleamed before us like gossamer moons.

you dared me to eat one but

I thought my blood heavy fingers would bring the 

entire grove ground bound.

so we plucked low hanging stars from their milky,

cosmological branches.

then from the dirt pushed postcard corners,

letters from lonely dead.

we laid low and pressed our lips to the grass,

night spilled cold onto our skin.

in a mellisonant voice you promised someone

(maybe me,)

that they were not alone in dying.

on the empty road home I couldn’t stop wondering

which empty casket would be mine.

my entire life, 

an ephemeral chimera, 

a scene in a dream.