Havoc

I wake up much too soon this morning to my phone buzzing.

Barely awake, I read your message.

A German greeting to your lady.

I tell you good morning,

you're too early,

I'm not coherent.

You tell me to go back to sleep and talk to you later.

I fall back into unconsciousness.

And here you wait.

********************************************************

It's just a snapshot.

A flicker of black and white home video.

Shaky and fuzzy.

But clear in meaning.

We're leaving a concert.

You, me and him.

I don't want you in this dream.

We're walking through the lampost lit,

rainycity parking lot.

I'm holding his hand in my right one and the three of us are walking

companionably.

Then you reach out and take my left hand.

I don't want you in this dream.

You pull me closer and he doesn't notice at first.

Then he gets irritated, tugs me back.

You pull again, harder and more sudden this time.

My hand breaks free of his.

You look triumphant,

he looks speechless.

All I can think is how empty my right hand feels

without him holding it.

I don't want you in this dream.