I dreamt about you this morning.
We were married in my grandfather’s old house,
Sharing a bedroom and a twin mattress.
When I moved to Arkansas you were a red head,
You’d smile,
And that was it.
California,
You’ve got the face of someone I used to tutor,
And we spend every moment naked.
We fucked before-hand;
The priest can smell the sex on us,
And must be wondering where the shotgun is hidden.
Thing is, in every dream I’ve had of you,
It’s over before the sex,
Now we’ve fucked and married,
And I want a shower with my wife.
I want to finally hold you and say that everything is going to be alright.
“Every—“
