Thursday, 22 August 2013

one more dream

I dreamed that you and I were escaping the apocalypse. It was lovely. I mean, the terror was there, the water was rising, but we were having so much fun.

You were draping rainbow-dyed wool around your shoulders, around the fuzz of your soft shaved head. You kept hugging me from behind. We were watching ships made of matchsticks crack and crumple on the waves of the heaving sea. We knew that these waves were getting closer—we could see it in the breath of the ocean—but I was transfixed by our loveliness and couldn’t find the will to flee.

Things had gone beyond seediness. We had slept together, or been kissing behind a rock, or shared some delicious secret—I could tell—but whatever that was was less important than this moment: your grin. My grin. Getting away with the universe. The colours of the rainbow-dyed wool were so bright, brighter against the matchbook ocean, against the shore. We were happy to be here.

Eventually, the screams of the people dashed on the rocks drowned out our whispers and we reluctantly gathered ourselves to leave.

I was slow at escaping the apocalypse. I kept getting hit by waves.

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