There will come a time
when
I wake up,
climb
out of my body,
dress
in a old brown suit,
and
fly in a matter of minutes
to
a café in Lisbon,
the
dark waters of the Atlantic
moving
my soul
with
dark etheric dreams.
I
will drink red wine,
eat
bread and cheese,
dance
the Vira,
and
make love
to
the dark-haired beauty
who
has played Rodrigo
on a classical guitar.
The
moon will rise
and
throw silver
through
an open window
on
the white sheets
where
we spent long hours
looking
into each other’s eyes.
I
will be home soon enough,
slipping
back into my skin
in
time to fall asleep again
so
that I may wake
in
a bag of old bones
that
I drag to the kitchen,
where
I make a pot of coffee,
wondering
whether it was a dream
or
something far more real,
not
that it makes a difference.
Such
mornings are what makes life
so
grand.
~William Hammett
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