last night i dreamed a love poem —
i dream these, sometimes.
the face is never very important, although i doubt
freud'd agree, and the fact that
last night the face was yours
shouldn't hold any special significance,
i tell myself.
we laughed because it was funny and
unexplainable, how well we fit together.
i woke up and i showered and i reminded
myself, i don't believe in romance.