Love Mountains

Carole, we were together again, a few hours ago, maybe flying kites in a mountainous area after getting a quickie cholesterol check in a doctors office, against a broad rectangular wall, coming in from the outside emerging from a lovely tall wooded gate with scant flowers and butterflies painted on it, weathered made to look aged against a narrow staircase, the light grayish gate with a delicate character to it, maybe Asian, and I woke I up and cried and cried, still now in front my computer writing this.

Hanukkah 2009

Your boys were here tonight in this dimension as you were in another earlier this morning in a dream. You and I sitting across from each other in Nana Anna's living room, which wasn't her living room at all, a tea shop of sorts, but the the view, as I remembered it, overlooking the the woods. There was a Japanese two-some, two women our younger age at another table, each table a narrow short bench. Your brown silky hair fell below your shoulders and you nose squinched the way it did when exhaling smoke from a cigarette. It feathered your face and I didn't complain about the smoke as I would have then, wanting instead that moment to be whole and real and knowing otherwise, you my sister, a mirage?