1920s street car &
street reminds me of
San Francisco that
was dead before I got there
and I wonder do
dreams continue on after
I've woken up & forgotten
them?
Joe was waiting for
me when I stepped off &
we head to apartment
porch reminds me of some
porch from my childhood
with screens and wood facade
& two chairs, table, patio;
rest is void, dream doesn't fill
inside, I leave to find streetcar again
deciding it's time to go home--
been dream hours but
only seconds maybe,
but there's no time
that isn't perceived however I
want it to within confines
of selective reality--thinking,
"Joe, we haven't talked
in a while."
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