Sunday, June 1, 2025

At the Hotel

I dreamt I wrote a novel—
then woke to you on a barstool,
lying for fun, telling the bartender
your religion was against vodka.
When he asked your faith,
you pointed to me:
in a black swimsuit, newly bought,
delighted to swim in warm water,
a pool like a womb
where I emerged, reborn—
hungry, smiling wide
over scrambled eggs at breakfast.

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