In my wildest dreams,
There would be strong coffee in the morning
And crisp, white sheets
A stream of light through an open window
Caffeinated musings would mingle with Blake and Rumi and Keats
And I would recite Plath and Dickinson just to level the playing field.
You would marvel at the Masters upside down,
Your head in my lap
And ask for permission to “profane my blushing pilgrims”
The only line you could ever remember from high school.
We would both know that words were maps that navigated our existence
And that’s why I would like you.