I think he saw an orange light,

When his eyes closed.
I could tell by the way his hands fell together as one,
and his lips stretched to a smile.

Maybe he saw love, standing before him.
Perhaps the cage he had made for her years before was torn down.
I could tell by the way his brow eased.

Maybe love decided to take his hand, to lead him out a window, and to jump out.
They landed on a mattress floating down the Mississippi River.
I could tell by the way he kicked his legs up.

Perhaps the Mississippi River was pink?
And he would see a fish with gills made of glass and the fish would smile and say that everything was okay and that he should find the clay diamond in the ground that could help him go home.
And perhaps he didn't know how to answer.
I could tell by the way his face twisted in confusion.

Perhaps love left him.
Maybe she let go of his hand, and then the sun carried her off.
Maybe he found himself in a corn field in Nebraska.
And he was left to wonder:
Why it was that love had gone and why it was that he needed a clay diamond to go home.
I could tell this by the way he woke up to the familiar rumbling below him.
I could tell this by how his pupils fell to his shoes,
And he realized that he dreamt of what he could not have.
For that, I am terrified.

So I ask.
Would you wake me
If I fell asleep on the subway?