I dreamt about it again last night.
It was so nice.

I dreamt that you grabbed my face from behind,
that I absentmindedly began to massage your shoulders.
We were in a store or perhaps a school.
People jeered; it was strange. Weird.
My friends assured me that you were getting even;
I did not know, for what, or perhaps why.
I felt humiliated. I am not surprised.

There was something sexual about a closet,
but you were not there. I remember that the closet
had let loose my secret. This event is unimportant.

There was something about oceans,
about waters too deep and you standing next to me.
Galapagos turtles and secluded islands with little houses.
We had embarked on something accompanied by classmates--
I believe, earnestly, that you had stood next to me.
The ocean was green and had walls that I clung onto,
because nobody would hold me above the water’s edge.
I was too short. When somebody grabbed me,
I remember being scared that I would fall.
Boys and girls were separated. I did not know where you were;
I think, still by the shore. Feminine shrieks clouded my ears,
and I believe that all I wanted was you near.

I may have fell beneath the water;

I may have swam back to you.