blue lit dream 

I have a blue lit dream of you.

you are cackling bent over the tatters 

of a tire 

calling me "puddin pop".

I detest it 

and you laugh so hard 

your knees buckle.

I shut my mouth tight 

and grit my teeth through a smile.

your hands are open 

on my thighs 

and I rest my head 

right on the crane of your neck.

we are stranded on the 1-10. 

I bore this place in the back 

of a diner.

I imagined it the way you imagine 

your lungs oxygenating blood 

as you're running,

platelets swelling up 

and such. 

you have taught me

i can paint a picture with ache,


and yearning. 

– sheila c. 


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