Set Up for Reverie

A hinge creaks, the trap
door swings opens. She passes 

through. It’s these details.
They weigh on her. She’s not
catatonic—she just can’t complete her day 

dream. She needs to fill in
all the blanks.  Where? What
begins in a coffee bar on Hennepin moves 

to a Linden Hills basement
to a truck parked
on the street to a pedestrian 

bridge over the river. When?
Civil twilight to midnight 

with a full moon. What? 

An encounter transforms
into a planned meeting
into a passionate charge 

down to experience the unforgettable. Why?
Because it’s finally time.
Who? You 

would like to know. If
she could just get to the kiss,
she might reveal the shadow 

hands pressing against
her hips. Until then,
you can hover overhead.

Into the Lens

A waking smirk paints her face
young. Her daydreams
have become pages
from old journals ripped 

out, restacked, sewn
back together
in an order she believes
would have sustained 

such animation. Plagiarizing is
alright as long as she
doesn’t plagiarize 

herself. But it’s too much
work to steal from others. That look 

is for no one—now it belongs
to these worn-down back streets.