Do I Dream.

Harlequinned memories masquerade themselves
between bedsheets and underneath stuccoed ceilings
like stars they burn the blackness,
and etch their stories with thick fingernails
like the first ray of sun
that sucks the smell of sweet earth after a storm.

Prance and undulate they cry
as a six year old girl with my face
smiles and tugs on my sleeve,
the pungent joy pierces the air,
and she twirls,
oblivious to the reality
that lies just beyond the curtain.

Step left step right
Avoid the diamonds just below
the prom dress rips
and every eye is on every other tear in the fabric
the tears drip across years and fears
unaddressed, adorned in pearls and feathers.

Stumble and you may be lost
His chocolate hair smells familiar like cigarettes,
with a smile that made our winter irrelevant.
brittle branches loiter in the closet
pulled on like clothes that hurt when we got close,
but it is all spring now while daylight plays elsewhere.

But what of the cost of dancing
she screamed to the sequined sandman,
each grain finds its way home and sticks,
breeding malcontent and planting yellow roses,
where there is only concrete and satisfaction.
My heart pays the fare but
do I trust the chariot driver.