Variations on a Dream

I.

This is what I wrote
when I was sleeping,

except instead of words
there was only
empty, a space
I knew you could love.

II.

In there:
nothing worth telling.

Only the words
crawling out of my mouth,
unable to be spoken
any faster,

twisting into smoke.

III.

So adorably stupid,
the thought:

I cannot move,
as if I were in a dream.

IV.

There, there.

Geese fly off
in a shape that
shifts and folds
like the calligraphy
of veins.

V.

Estoy siempre
en la pasada.

VI.

Into frigid night
we dispersed,
trusting we
would never
forget.

We did forget.

VII.

I thought it meant,
in the way.

It doesn't.