i call her father on my cellphone, his name spelled out in full, and i knew it was the wrong number but i was moving through the motions like art-school paste & too slow to cancel before it rang through.
he asked why i was calling & was angry which made sense because i had hurt his firstborn angel. i realize again that i have no one to hold onto & then start to cry from all the lava rising up my throat. my tears are clear and distinct, & i apologize & start to sob & in between breaths explain that i was just looking for her & it was an accident that i called him.
i'm lost. i don't know for how long.
i turn around a dark corner into summer-sunshine, & open a gate & pass under an arbour that's made of red-bricks. A small dog darts beneath my feet that looks vaguely familiar but it's like i've skipped pages of my dream. i pass under the arbour & see her and her family, in pastoral panorama, a kitchen island with chairs against an arboreal spectacle. their eyes are so clear. their eyes are so clear & i can't believe it because they never seem to be, this fact clear now only that i've seen their clarity against the grainy backdrop of dream-memories of dreams. every line on their faces, every hair is where it would be now & she sees me, starts running to me, and tears first leak, then pour down my face & i run to meet her, and i've found her again. again.
-M
