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Corporate picks up the tab on this Bay
visit, still I spend what I don’t have
and worry about it later: 3am, after a dream
in which the plane carrying us to the unknown
rolls belly up in the prickled atmosphere, heads
down as I press my fingers into your arm and
tell you I love you. Would you meet me
on the Other Side as you met me in front
of the little hotel, warm coat, arm raised as
I completed the journey of 300 miles to see
you? Call me, you said, when you are close,
our cell phones key in the neon-splurged
side of town just down the block from the best.
Call me, you said, I will meet you. Your
face in the 9pm wind—the belly up
of your smile, the smile I dream of when I’m
there, you’re here, worrying until—when?
When all hell breaks loose and runs like a wild
mare from the horizon to your dreams, her iron
hooves crushing the stars, the frenzy

of her noted eyes.


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