Long into Late Winter

I see it rained, but
I didn’t see it 

rain. I’ve been lost
inside warm, closed
rooms of sleep, leaving 

a map of dreams
undrawn. When I say
I had none, how 

can anyone know
for sure? I reserve
that certain cartography 

for these scenes traveling
through my wakeful self—
put into motion 

by that Townes Van Zandt
song today. Yesterday,
it might have been yours.
You could look it up.

Cornered at Espresso Royale

One day this unstable
wooden chair will collapse.
It may be she got her day      

dream come true too early.
Can she be 

satisfied with these ones
she unpacks now
remaining where they began— 

balanced on the teetering
legs of her imagination? One 

voice is terrible
beauty enough. Or, grace is
wood turning 

to wings at the last
possible moment.

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.