Nearly five am
I say I’ll be in class in five hours,
You say you’ll be asleep
(curled in forest-green sheets-
tangled in a thicket of slumber)
Asleep, you say, and dreaming of me
(jolted awake into a world of white-
wet socks and textbooks)
You’ll send out a dream-thought to visit me
here…and you press a hand against the warm
ski-slope of my neck just below the ear…
In the winter-bright morning
(a fleece blanket of snow-
more beautiful than cold)
With an intake of clear air I feel the pressure of your dreams,
(a reminder of what you wish you could share-
but not exchange)
and I wonder who got the better deal.
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