A Casting Couch
Again – a rolled-eye look upon you – a lost lover
in muddling dreams – with me as your interloper
who pulls at those fetters you forged when away/
We had made our tugged bonds in bicycled years
when curious games stopped at bare cliff edges/
My role in this slept future is as a limping outsider
writing cinematic recall of my much-dreamt scenes
between us/ Ages ago – we shared flat beer and lovers –
rounded turns as we sunk our pounds into pints
and did low crimes before spread cathode light/
Back then we had fewer things to switch between/
None feature now in my sleep’s three-part act
of sweated sheets/ Now our phantom presences
are acted by sleep’s bit-part reveries –
so close to the choices we made without a script