Dream #3

 

Stillness was the move.

Rejecting the rage inside,

in my mind I knew it was time.

 

We arrived in a Rolls-Royce.

The driver turned around, “Here we are.”

“Now?” I inquired completely aware of the answer.

 

Wrist wrapped around my father’s arm,

I walked slower than we had rehearsed.

Forever is a mighty long time.

 

I refuse to hurry to the hurse.

The bugbear ogled as I arrived at the alter.

Dial R for regret.

 

It wasn’t a wedding it was a celebration of us.

I wonder if I’d be happy without it?

So dangerous yet lucrative.

 

I doubt it. Pounds and Euros.

Sheen winning.

Now I’m Nemo.

 

Keep swimming.

The pounding in my chest left me vexed.

Not knowing what’s next, I whispered “ok.”

 

“Ok?” he laughed it off.

Wiping sweat from his brow,

glancing quickly at the crowd.

 

Life’s a test.

I thought it would have rained.

It always rains in Streatham.

 

Roses blooming out of the concrete.

Urban beauty at it’s best.

Jah bless.

 

What if I run out of this church right now?

They’re gonna talk about me anyways.

No. I’ll stay and we can make a hell of our own.

 

Love. Love. Love. Love.

Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice.

Hello? Hello?

 

Nothing.

He spoke with confidence, “I do.”

I exhaled, “I guess I do too.”

 

He laughed knowing I wasn’t joking.

I arrived at the fork,

and I followed the wishes of my family.

 

I wish I could rewind time,

to the me time,

in the meantime.

 

This is where we are.

Naira and Dollars.

Ashamed of his shadow, yet he counts his followers.

 

He doesn’t share is thoughts.

He’s afraid I will talk shit.

He should accept the inevitable.

 

Could I love him?

Flowers, chocolates, and diamonds decorate the tables.

I’m just not sure.

 

I’m sure it’s my fault.

I shoulda, woulda, coulda, said no.

It may not be beautiful but it will suffice.

 

It’s not,

it’s not what I dreamed of,

but it’s alright.

 

This is honesty.

My best attainable version of the truth.

Maybe we’ll get there.

 

Money.

Buys.

Happiness.

 

I may suffer.

But, if I’m to suffer I will do so magnificently,

and exorbitantly.

 

Don’t be fooled.

Love versus money,

it’s time to pretend.

 

There where the happy people go.

Sitting on islands in the sun.

Drinking, laughing, smoking, joking.

 

Some shit is funny because it’s smart.

So here we are, so close yet so far.

Our first dance as, as us.

 

His arm around my waist.

His hand swallowing mine.

We dance to the Love Ballad.

 

“What we have is much more than they can see.”

 

He whispers the words in my ear.

Swinging my gown in circles.

The eyes of everyone we know upon us.

 

For the first time I felt butterflies.

He winked, grinned,

and dipped me as I shut my eyes.

 

Drenched in tears and fears,

wondering why I’m here,

my body began to shift gears.

 

No destination in mind,

I floated away from matrimony.

Fear like a feather floated on with the wind.

 

Unsure of where I wanted to be,

ready to free my ring finger,

I opened my eyes.

 

In the thunder and rain,

we sat outside the train station.

He stroked his guitar and I was jealous.

 

I observed and admired.

I am his biggest fan.

His only real fan.

 

Souls touch from time to time.

His sat astride mine,

and I held him there.

 

The smell of garbage and urine.

The dog that rested to his right.

None matter tonight.

 

I asked a stranger for change.

He looked me in my dirt filled face,

“We have to accept things the way they are.”

 

Here we are,

in the thunder and rain.

A homeless love so passionate yet slightly insane.

 

The rain smelled so fresh,

compared to the dumpster we rested against.

He sang to me and the passersby.

 

“I don’t worry what my people say in my life today.

Although they try to say your not the one for me,

I love you anyway.”

 

A child tossed a dollar into the hat.

It grew soggy in the rain.

I reached for it.

 

He grabbed my wrist,

giving it a twist.

The silence of the guitar was deafening.

 

Nettled he stared at me.

‘I was just…’

He cut me off ‘-I, handle our money.’

 

He released my wrist.

As I sat steeping frustrated in the stillness

he picked up where he left off,

 

“Cause their intentions might be cool,

if what they say was true.

But there’s more to you than they can ever see,

and they don’t even know you.”

Dream #2

 

I woke blinded by the skylight.

Ravishing at night,

yet ablaze in the morning.

 

Bearing in mind, never get too comfortable.

My sleep frozen face melted as I awoke exhausted,

wrapped in silk, lace, and egyptian cotton.

 

The day arrived,

although it never really was.

Four arms and four legs kettled by sheets and sweat.

 

‘Do you trust me?’

Smiling at his noncore question.

I wink and whisper ‘It’ll always be this way.’

 

Such a magnificent face puts me at ease.

Moment to moment,

more enchanted by the sound of his voice.

 

His hand swallowed mine,

as he led me out of the cabana.

Trees waved hello to us.

 

Giggling and whispering.

Tropical birds chirped mystical songs,

they know it too.

 

Supplying the soundtrack to our emotions.

Paradise.

He stood by the beach.

 

I watched the sunset over his shoulder.

My feelings deeper than

the silky black sand on the shore.

 

Mister glisters. Love has arrived.

I’ve waited to dream this dream.

Excitement erupted into anticipation.

 

I try not blink as he informs me,

‘I’ve been thinkin bout you’

‘Me?’ I question.

 

‘Yes you’

 

Private fantasies of my mine.

Running through my mind.

Simple words are the most intricate.

 

‘Wanna get in?’ He smiles.

Making me crazy.

Insane sometimes.

 

A gust of wind blows black sand into my eyes.

I put my hand up in defense of my vision.

Darkness.

 

He releases the other to roam the world alone.

NO! NO! NO!

Is that it?

 

Mister vanished.

Balancing between a dream and a nightmare

I snatch a scrap of reality.

 

With a Jackie O grip

I grasp the memory of the moments we shared.

I fought my fears attempting to wake up!

 

To rise! To come alive!

To live! To be!

All efforts to no avail.

 

All that I’ve loved and feared is near.

Darkness.

Alone in the shade of brown eyelids,

 

I feel hopelessly for his presence.

I wade forward into the water.

Cool water reassures me I’m real.

 

I instinctively dismiss my resentment,

in hopes of a brighter dream.

Rejecting the notion of a nightmare.

Bullied by waves,

darkness diminishes.

The sound of the sea calms me.

 

Sparring the urge to wake,

I float on.

For what feels like eternities.

 

With the will of all lovers

across the world I prayed.

Man can’t pause prayer.

 

In desperate need of nutrients and affection,

with no where else to float to,

I forced my eyes open.

 

Rendered sightless by the sun,

dry heat held me like a hoodie.

Sounds of water replaced by hot wind.

 

I shield my view finders again.

A familiar sweaty stranger stepped into my light.

He reeked of beer and cigarettes.

 

Instinctively I pull glasses from my front pocket,

assured and surprised at their presence.

Sense of sight is mine again.

 

He looks lonely.

Hissing, ‘where’s the food?’

I wipe my hands on my apron and get to work.

 

Chopping, cutting, stirring.

Stirring. Stirring. Stirring.

Plating the meal I spot him out the window.

 

Tinkering with a model T,

I reminisce on the serenity

of my dream deferred.

 

I wrestle a tear back into it’s duck.

He’s back. He’s hungry.

I sit at the table and wait.

 

He grabs his plate and heads to the couch.

‘Bitch I told you no onions!’

I close my eyes as he turns up the radio.

 

Day graduates into a quiet country night.

Snakes and cicadas shake relentlessly.

My mind meanders to escape reality.

 

With nothing left to lose I inquire,

‘Why are you so fucking mean?’

The silence is deafening.

 

Interrupted by the back of his cold hard hand

greeting my cheek and eye like old friends.

My heart and spirit sunk.

 

As if they never knew,

or were never aware of anything special.

I wonder if love ever lived in his house?

 

I wipe my sweaty hands on the dirty apron.

Shaking my head at the emotionally bankrupt man,

so cold he wouldn’t weep at his own wedding.

 

Knowing love makes it’s absence substantial.

A dream and nightmare differ only by,

the amount of effort put forth to wake the F up.