I was woken early by thunderstorms vibrating in my head,
my own dreams
quiet, content but crazy busy trying to keep people at bay.
I lost sight of you; forgot your breath and the blue of your dark soft eyes.
Finally alone, not lonely but by myself
between the once lovely pink flowing Celestine dreams of my youth;
An idea or image or fantasy, like you,
reappeared just out of my reach, or so I thought.
Then you vanished
like maybe a master of arithmetic or a stupid fool
ordinary, the same as on any street corner in any other town like this one.
And now there’s no escaping me, from myself.

image: Peyman