I drove into the August blush
on roads that hung suspended
from the memory of dreams
that flickered deep within
the foliage of my unconscious mind
I drove on roads
lined with backlit hours
their amber windows
pulsing like beating hearts
and wondered
when is a dream
not a dream?
I drove past porches
where wooden rockers
with brown sisal webbing
held the promise
of your longed-for face
I dreamt we sat
and sipped our tea
with the endless, unfolding green
while the winding road
wrapped itself around us
passing us by
and finally
finally
I was free
from the in between