alternate realities

mountains and mountains of cardboard boxes

stacked short but wide before California hills

and a finger running along all that plastic tape,

all that terribly careful packing of small things

that i could have easily left behind to start over,

if i’d only known where to properly dispose of

memories so full of parking lots and skylines.

 

or so the nightmare goes.

 

the terrible truth? I wake up unscathed,

with my life hastily thrown inside a closet,

a mysterious case of dream poisoning,

and two hands checking the topography

of a city in which the only elevations found

are the small hikes in people’s breathing.

 

i fall asleep listening for yours.