the dream

by Elizabeth, Grade 11

midnight.
the sky is orange, like paint in lukewarm water
no beauty in the night
only the dark smudge of people in the streets, the pinprick flare of a lighter
a lonely bluebird drifts down the sidewalk, looking dusty gray in the streetlight glow
I don't have to pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming
when I see you appear
I know
just by the way your hands brush the bricks of the school
fall into your pockets, as you wait for a girl you’ve never met.
the sound of your laughter,
children dragging a broken kite,
the murmur of almond trees in the wind,
the entire scene composed like a perfect photograph
until your face begins to fade,
contorting into grotesque shapes of wax,
and the whole scene begins to flake away,
like pieces of gold peeling off a picture frame.
the smudge of a man drops his cigarette
and you’re gone.
I go upstairs and lay in bed with my hands nearly numb,
nothing to keep me warm anymore.
on the street, you continue to Queens and Adelaide
you pass the threshold of the dreaming and the forgetting
you skip stones in the sky, you hurry towards dawn
then I meet you in the dim light of a cafe
and we dance and kiss each other like old friends
until you make an excuse, so pale and weak, a little wisp of coffee smoke,
wave goodbye, leave to find new places to hide.
sure, that's fine. I’ll see you next time.
until there is no next time
and i'm in bed, and i'm not asleep but it's dark
and you're gone.