During the Class Break…

I am dreaming again, of a lover
drawing his fingertip along the bridge
of my nose, following that secret line
dividing my lips in four halves,

Under the bright, dusty haze of a mid-morning sun,
under its warm, smoldering rays caressing my neck with flames,

I am waiting for the touch that stays
and in the meantime I conjure the owner

of that hand in my mind. I imagine them
in the faces of delivery men and librarians.
in roommates, in colleagues, in friends.

They tell me I’ll find it when I stop looking,
but my eyes don’t even close when I sleep.

They tell me too, that I’ll be disappointed when
my fantasies fall subject to reality.
But then again, don’t all lovers start as dreams
and finish as them in the end.