It's in my head.

Five years ago or so I remember this dream. But I just remembered it yesterday.

Is this deja vu?

You pass a sign and put on your sunglasses and turn to look at a face you didn't know before

but now do well enough to know that it was the same person in the dream.

Trepidation's been swirling around in the air caught with shame, but you're having fun

even though you know a year from now you'll regard it as you did before.

Dirty. Stupid. Wrong.

Does it matter? It's not right or evil or wrong or good. It just is. It's there, busy being, while you're busy assigning it a meaning. And that's my problem. You leave and stay gone so repetitively but then you come back in and rearrange me to your liking.

And I never fight it.

I'm going to blink my eyes and you'll be back on your shelf

in the back of my mind where you really belong.

I don't live to see you smile anymore.

I'm not holding on to your way of life hoping you'll put me in your pocket.

I'm your fall back? You're nothing. I don't know you.