The Dream about You (V)

Everyday I go to sleep holding my own hand
And dream of you with various hair.
Sometimes it’s short as we play tennis
And it hops up and down a little as you scream
And thrust the ball high in the air.
And now and then, over a game of dream chess
Your hair obscures one of my pieces messily
And I lose, thinking about your hair.
Or else I’m showering and find long strands
Clogging the drain, holding the water till it rises to my shins.
Sometimes I dream I’m cooking
Breakfast and I can only find hairpins
In the silverware drawer to cut the butter.
Once I dreamt that your bangs covered your nose,
Like in a horror movie. I was on my toes
In case you tried to eat my brains or something,
But I still kinda wanted to kiss you.
I woke up in a cold sweat and called (what else could I do?)
But you were either asleep or just let it ring and ring in the night air.

—EWW