Sand in My Bed

I met a man who lived inside a rock
He invited me in and I stayed briefly
Wondering now if it was a dream

The man who invited me was beautiful
Beautiful mind, hands, with a graceful
tattoo that made me think of subway paths,
or a map for escaping to that place that is always safe

This dream with this man inside this rock
Haunts me as besides the man there was a child

This boy of nine so full of hope and his own dreams
Scared to go forward because 10 is impossible
10 is where it changes
10 is the time the rock should have been wrapped tight around him
and the map accessible

I love this nine year old boy
His photograph shows him full of expectation
This is the favorite photograph
Among a field of beauty, this is the beloved memory
This boy of nine

It was the boy who invited me in,
I realize that now
It is the nine year old who has hope and believes he is safe
Believes that people love him, will love him, will care for him
My nine year old friend thought he saw something in me that he recognized
He saw a friend. He saw a playmate. He liked the words. He liked the smile.
It was simple.

I awoke from dreaming with sand on my feet
I remember now standing at the waters edge
The warm water brushing past my legs, my dress just wet at the hem
A real smile, no mona lisa undercurrent
Hand in hand with my nine year old friend
And then the fingers slipped, I turned to see the boy turned to a man
Walking away. Not a word for why. Not a word for goodbye.

Now I have sand in my bed

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