You come to me in dreams,
Wide-eyed-unhappy,
A boy in your doubt.
And I steer you away from me.
As much as I still dream of you,
I steer you home,
All the while remembering how your hand felt
On my back,
and your bones
Against me.
That is all I can say.
Go home.
In my dreams
Where babies turn into goldfish,
Walking into flying
And desire into morality.
