Waking season

in a dream we sit together
on the stairway and wait
for the storm to go away.

we talk about God knows what
because this time, I am just visiting
and I cannot control my mouth.

we are average people,
we need our sorrows,
we long for our vacations,

we say bad things about
folks we believe to have
nothing in common with.

you tell me in the kitchen
you have lost someone
I am lost for words

I fail to disclose that I write
to keep my ghosts manageable.
I am telling you now.