and yet tonight I hear a different song. No one has
sung it before. It comes to me unexpectedly, but I know
it instantly when the bass-line starts, like the repetition of
a dream long hidden by the veil of morning.
It is not the dream that comes to me in my waking
hours, the dream so clear I could write it again and again, the dream
so certain it is scary.
Yet here is a question mark of a revelation, crawling
from the black hole of stays and and wheres and reasons to leave.
This precocious point of punctuation settles itself on my shoulder,
a firm hand of approval looking forward into an unknown future.
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