so like. here’s the thing right
if i dream, which, hell i do—
then. well, here’s the thing, here’s
the thing; in the spaces which you
were, or the times— is time space?
you’d
say yes.

so now. here’s the thing.
if i dream, in the time which you were—

okay, okay. IF I DREAM, which. I do.
there were times and spaces that you
were. and you’d say, “why is that a 
dream?”
and i’d whisper to myself, 
“it happened.”

two people hold denial differently.
some hold it like a wall;
like a steel one rising to the ceiling
in a smoking fogging room:
some hold up against that wall and they
cram themselves so tightly against it,
why? one wants to leave and one wants
to hold it up even as you pound 
against it. your eyes lay themselves
soft on my face— i cannot see you.
(“ah,” you’d say, “that is what you
mean by.
- a dream.”)

here’s the other.
he’s sitting right in front of you
in that dream where you are in those
times.
here’s the other, and it comes
to me in dreams and waves;
i think, the wave is your hair.
the foam of the sea is the places
you’ve been, and are.

if enough waves come, endless as they
may be—
then you are here again, and i have won.

so like.
here’s the thing right
i’m still standing here.
i’m still standing here.
brass and horns line the sky.
thunder strikes and i think you
call back.
so like,
here’s the thing—

i’m in those times and spaces.
you just have to stop lying.