Woken from a dream, a broken trip,
where I fell in love with a freckled girl,
marching ‘cross a desert, my tribe, youth-sick,
I was slow-kissing my freckled girl.
I know I fell hard, from another height,
vertigo-embraced, with her, freckled girl,
the fabulous dream, from last night,
and love was there, my freckled girl.
High on a creak-sway wooden tower aloft,
I lived briefly, with my freckled girl,
broken dream-time, I woke with the hour,
alarm-tripped, gone, that freckled girl.
Recounting, now three decades on,
with that fade of one freckled girl,
the past echoes in my dream-time songs;
on waking now, gone, my freckled girl.