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.