sometimes i pretend
he's here with me, in my room, holding
my hand. sometimes i dream about him,
imagining in my sub-conscious mind
that he's back home. dreaming up
a boy in dress blues, his hands
so beautiful in stark white gloves,
his cover tucked gracefully
under his arm. sometimes, when
i can't stop thinking about him,
i pretend he's here. & sometimes
i (almost) convince myself

it's true.