Beatrice had passed.
But now she was back.
She was naked
then not, and wearing
a long, strange, multi-colored
wig
that mostly covered some of her.
She was still beautiful, but
she looked so different!
In the dream, she died at 39;
so why is she still alive!?
And now we turned, and went
on a long, strange trip, traveling
on many bizarre, futuristic contraptions;
some like giant roller coasters that were,
and were not, at the same time.
(Just about to fall from your seat,
dangling in mid-air,
you realize you won’t,
over and over again.)
Fearless, fantastic, floating, futuristic
contraptions, stretching across a nameless
ocean which makes the Pacific look like
a puddle on another planet with
no final destination in sight.
And singingly, swimmingly, hey, ho, ah, oh,
whoa, my favorite girlfriend is back, still
beautiful but so, so different, somehow.
Friendly, whale-sized dolphins laughing
below us, fabulously glowing, radiant,
giant white seagulls soaring above us
as we two flew.
I could feel
the wind
from their wings
brushing our hair.
She had taken my hand
almost like in life
when mother was gone
and I was a child.
I didn’t know; we didn’t talk; we didn’t need to;
launched into a time where
no more talking is needed.
And it was OK, and she knew
where we were going.
Saragun Springs 