xxanastasiaxx

in my dreams
i would produce from
the pockets
of my big coat
snow
for you
and one hundred
perfect poems
each written perfectly in red ink
and
in my dreams
you take each one
each perfect poem
you read them
and you know
everything you always should have known
but months have gone by
and you are not in the
same part of town
the same elevator
or the same street corner as i
and then suddenly
you are there
in the dark
glowing
you sneak up on me
i dig thru my coat for
snow
chest heavy with air and embarrassment
but from the big pockets
comes only
an odd array of used movie tickets
the perfect poems
are all gone
except for one
half perfect
wannabe poem
you read it
i watch you
you smile and say i know