poem

 found this poem on the facebooks. It was reposted from a group by a friend...the author wasn't listed and there was a typo which I have fixed. It is a lovely poem. Someday I hope to be someone's dead best friend.

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Dead best friend, I

know dreams are your

house parties.

When I am dreaming, I am clumsy. I am

like a teenager stealing

mom’s vodka, getting

wasted for the first time.

You walk without striding, you

leap from dream to dream

and shadow to shadow.

I follow, but I haven’t quite

learned to walk without legs,

how to live in the abstraction.

You have tasted the rich, melting

buttery dreams. I have only had dregs

and soured milk; anxious dreams of work

and money.

“Try to keep up,” you say

as you drag me into your

old kitchen.

Everything

is how I remember. Captain Crunch

on the counter.

You open the fridge

And grab a cold piece of pizza.

Your dog, who is also dead,

leaps up on my leg and I scratch him

between the ears.

“Let’s make a deal,” you say,

turning to me. “I’ll teach you

how to walk through a dream,

if you let me remember what it is

like to walk barefoot in the sand.

I will teach you how to breathe

without breath if you let me take

a deep draw of air.”

I’m about to answer, I’m

about to say

I will, I’d do

anything to trade places

to have you here

sipping coffee

and i wake up

to a siren wailing

outside