Baggage

Baggage

Did you dream again last night or was it me

dreaming you and we are awake but sleep still?

Package them; don’t order that Viagra just yet.

Forget or quick scribble before fading kills

for they will last only as long as anything will.

Smears. Bleary splashes wiped from mirrors

watching another day pack its bags to leave.

They pile up quickly. Forgotten boxes, cornered

by dumb fuddled keepers, some gift wrapped;

perma-stamped ‘fragile item do not disturb’

in delible ink, others seeping quiet blistered

battery acid, corroding purity, eroding clarity

slow to complete stop: With expired warranty.

Did we dream last night, kiss long or pass on in

overlapping Venn diagrams, suitcase grippers,

tight lipped, cool as blank faced unshippers?
It’s only a spell that dwells in our fiery brains.

Forget forever love that evermore must flame.

Forget forever trembled duets’ soft sung refrain.

Forget forever explosions of sweet salt champagne.

Rebox it, tamp it down, douse out any flame,

file it under deleted trash, put it in hoary hold

out of sight, out of wistful mind, let it grow old.

Recycle binned until those times we dream again.