Black Turntable Dreaming

Red skies over home again.

She arrived, aching, lovelorn and worn for the wear

 after much travel.

We went around and around...

A dream, she said, it was

exquisite

she said

 (I wish you could have seen it, she said

the rain and the kiss at the end)

I wish too, my dear, that I had been there.

I wish you were still there.

Now black turntables going around and around

fade

into red beginnings for me.

--dreaming of me no more--