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The Dream
i like this to be simple.
she was tiny and smooth
like a shell
(not the shell of an egg)
a sea
shell, she has a song
from the wind
it is sad, but i love it,
her, she is the other woman,
on a bamboo bed,
she my time unexplained
i make love to her
she pretends, i am hurt,
but it does not matter,
i am lonely, and feeling so lost,
i am a ship
needing an ocean not an anchor
i have no port
of origin and arrival,
that night, the sphinx
was shattered, and the following morning,
she was dead
asleep, she was so exhausted like a slave
woman, feeding me the love
that i have not tasted,
i was a puppy, yelping for help,
for meat,
and then i wake up
early, for some
anxiety, what time is it,
where am i,
i am leaving, i offered her
not flowers, i planted a kiss,
it was not part of the
contract, but just the same
i kissed her, for she is dead asleep
dreaming perhaps of the
man she really loved.
i put on my pants
combed my hair, and silently
left the room, locked the door,
and be myself again.
it is as simple as that, back home,
i do not need any complication.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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