I laughed when she said it was only a dream because
she hadn’t been with me on that
particular hell ride through some not so recent
events between the sheets that were perfectly
tangled up in blood. She said
it was just my imagination,
as if that was not enough
and I did not realize the momentum I had gained
would become such an unstoppable force
towards its beautiful ending: the fireworks,
the chants of monks, the rock and roll,
all suspended in my mind in a single
moment of an otherwise uneventful morning.
The great machinery of stars
shifts in the black sky, but I know it’s only
my brain again, trying to heal itself,
three chords
and the words of heaven,
all you need of love.