From Someone Else’s Dream

I wonder what you dreamt last night.
I wonder where you went after you closed your eyes.

Last night I saw you in my dreams.
Driving in your fast car,
you explained to me the composition of the perfect mix tape.
Some songs, you said, are ones you make room for,
and others are just fillers to record on blank tape.
Make a little room, you whispered,
make a little room for me.

In the morning I woke up in a bed too small for my dreams.
I threw off the covers and closed my eyes.
I imagined running until my legs gave out,
desperately trying to make it to your dream in time.
I jumped from state to state on a wrinkled paper map,
crossed the border, and sat on bench in a park you used to love.

You kicked the tall grass when you walked by,
talking with someone you hadn’t seen in years.
When he paused during his story,
you glanced over in my direction
and briefly smiled before returning to your conversation.
You were busy doing whatever it is you normally do,
fidgeting with your hands while nodding emphatically,
and I was just a stranger from another dream,
background noise,
catching my breath.

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