il n’est rien de réel que le rêve et l’amour
i had a dream that we ate cherries and calculated
the optimal angle to spit the seeds
in a trajectory curved like our smiles
concave up, defying some law of the universe
the lines on our palms intersected
here and there and everywhere
when one scene melted into the next
in the way of dreams, you'd taken me
somewhere with less light pollution
less fine print, less graphite
and more grammatical errors, more string instruments
more stars
somewhere where less is more, more or less
this softened pulse of approximation
carried us to bitter morning