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R.A. Allen

Compos Mentis


                   I dreamed I smelled rain

 coming, but it was only wind

 blowing through cracks unmended

 since last we’d mentioned them.


 I thought I heard you on the porch

 returning from our garden—a

 diversion acquired

 as time on our hands

 slipped away.

 But it must have been the cat.

 Or did we have a dog

 back then?


 Laughing, naked,  

 I chase you down the hall,

 and, laughing, you prove too swift.

 With vexation and the same

 jaded lecture, they lead me

 back to my room and

 dress me.


 Someday soon, I’ll escape

 this place and find you,

 bequeathing the next newly decrepit

 one bed and one TV

 with foil-wrapped rabbit ears.


R.A. Allen © 2008

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