I dreamed about a woman I don’t know.
It was last night, after watching a walk
through of Henry VI, Part III. She showed
up at a place I don’t know, little talk
as she flowed over me, sudden as wind,
but softer somehow, whispering how she
had missed me. Kissed me. I felt my knee bend
against her rippling thigh, tried to part seas
of her eyes to find their color, but could
not. And suddenly she was gone. No cast
member from the play, no character would
fit her role. No loving face from my past.
I slowly woke to find my room the same.
But I was not this man before she came.
Roger Armbrust
September 1, 2001
