12/18
important things in the waking world

I'm still getting over that bar with all your friends,

lying here in pajamas

and stretched upwards,

cradling my head

and I'm trying to hold onto

my dream. You said we all

sleep fetuslike. In my dream

I was a fetus, when we all went to

a bar and brought us our orders.

I was the one who had the embryotic fluid.

Duh.

They set an egg in front of me. Last

night, I dreamed I was guest-starring

on Buffy.

i feel like the intersection of

all the matthues, a lonely desert

crossroads of two long highways.

But I'm just the crossroads itself:

no length, no depth, just a small
inclusion of substance.

I'm wearng my pajamas. I barely

ever wear my pajamas to bed

anymore: they're for entertaining,

not sleep. People keep intruding on my

night-time. No lights out for me.

Now, when I fall asleep I'm always

naked, half-undressed, or changing.

And my hair is getting longer. I can

already hide my eyes in it, like

a pillow I carry around during

the day. The fluffy back of my head,

like goose feathers, something

to keep me warm in winter.

Keep me warm in winter.

Last night I dreamt you were Buffy,

the vampire slayer, and I was a friend

of your friends', Willow's internet

pen-pal. I was your love-interest

for the season. I tried to read the
lines so we'd be friends, so we'd never

start kissing. I liked your friends, I

knew them so well, how Xander would

flinch and Willow would clap like a girl when

you killed vampires.

I've always been out in the cold,

known so many gangs but never worked

with anyone. When the wind comes, I go

into fetal position, living off my

own warmth. When we go to restaurants

I forget to bring my own food and I listen

to my stomach growl, thinking perhaps

that I'm digesting my own fat, in

the absence of kosher food, living off myself

until something better comes along.

And I don't say much when your friends

talk, I like to listen

and think of our bar-nights like episodes.