the city of angels.

    I had a dream. Of a little rocky, underneath, closed-in kind of space. With water and little golden fish and the kind of pebbles you get in the back of aquariums where all the wildest things are. 

And breathing the water like it was air, and listening to the water sing like I’d been doing it all my life. 

And I was a water-baby, slick and smooth and naked, and speaking to fish and sea-monsters.

   And I remember waiting, for something or the other, or someone. To walk over my head and realize. 

I was the crab under the goldfish bridge.

   I remember walking with you on this ridiculously narrow pebble-path, around this lake that went on forever, with the enormously large dragon-fish with the golden, staring eyes, so big you could ride one and fly.

    I remember tiptoeing around you like a child and watching the white birds wheel and die in the cloudless sky. Or maybe it was the dragon-fish dreaming in the sun-pool.

   I remember drowning in the city of angels, and waking up to find all my dreams were real, and that other life was just seeming.

    I remember the time we watched the dancing over the sun-storm bay, and got caught in the rain and found the Tree of Hearts, and wished plenty on the Wreath of Seeming Souls.  

I remember so many things I have never seen.

I will paint you pictures. Tell me stories. Don’t be gentle with me. Fly me to the moon.