Sandra Harris

Listen, will you,
And I’ll tell you the dream I had last night,Exactly as I remember it.
We attended the buffet together,
Ryan Tubridy and me;
It wasn’t a great buffet,
There was a lot of dry turkey breast
And not much else.
A biggish woman stole my napkin,
Though I’d already used it.
I left before the end,
Then Ryan ran madly up the street after me.
He was wearing a jumper- not a christmas one-
And slacks, they might have been brown.
When he caught me up
He pulled me against him
And I snuggled into his chest,
Which was surprisingly solid.
He smelled of soap
And a citrussy aftershave
That reminded me of something
I’d smelled on someone else,
In another lifetime.
“Don’t be cross with me,” I whispered.
“Why would I be cross with you?” he answered,
Hugging me tight and grinning all over his face.
Then suddenly, I was alone in my kitchen,
Slicing enough red and yellow peppers- no green- to feed an army
And drowning a frozen chicken in the sink.
I missed Ryan very much, just then,
And wished him back.