vignettes raze i ask my dreams to give you back to me. all i get are small scenes that fizzle_and_fade when i open my eyes. you drawing something i'm not allowed to see. married to a man who isn't me. who isn't even real. you holding me holding you through a too-soon goodbye. our faces wet with what we're made of. gifts exchanged in a room that hasn't been mine in a very long time. a list of instructions that's also a poem. a braided bag of unloved letters. a bird dancing on your dog's back, singing along to every song she hears. your hand on my shoulder. talk of the movie we're going to watch. an out-of-work actor between us in bed. i pull the covers up over my head. 260922 what's it to you? who go blather from