The wishes come at night, it seems
that love can only feast from dreams
and lust is drawn as red bouquet
in blushing shades for petals stray
to form in fingered lines from foot
up soothing curves to lips’ dessert,
strawberry whispers breathed about
in butterscotch displays without
distractions, keeping love in play
til morning brings uncolored day.
You gaze down Infinity Pier
with its promises of sunny days,
the music of wind and water
hidden under every half shell.
The few days of rain
are housed perfectly, outside,
white fences picketing beauty
from flowers stampeding to the brick.
Those planks of freedom look smooth,
yet the way is treacherous.
The vision melts
from the best of dreamers,
grounded to the past
as a rusted south-lain pipe-
dreaming a great sluggish black.
Should you discover those waters
adrift in dead things,
you’ll lace your feet with oil
and bleed from razor rocks, deserted,
for even the Sandman
can’t run at a deficit