in my dream we're
running again,

although this time
i'm chasing
you.

your hair is longer than it has been for
a while,

and you tug on my wrist,
not gentle, not rough, just impatient

somewhere

in-
between,

the wind blows a curtain through your shirt and tears
it open, some-
thing

i've been wanting to do for a long
time,

and above us the sun is high and hot,
blinding,
your body is a blur

and i am a ghost

you won't be able to find me
here.