Lean or weighted down with weight,
every body I see now is eloquent
                       in true proportion.
Dreams have taught me
to turn my back on nothing
               that might be something.
Something being that other one
one always needs to compliment
                          the given hour.

Who knows how many dreams
                          die out of season
reaching for some added darkness
or twisting upward where the sunlight
sits on haunches in the tops of trees.

There are no ordinary dreams.
Every nightmare is extraordinary
and compared to bodies, every body,
the dream is truly plain.
                   The nightmare nothing.

I am, of course, excepting my own body
which needs a little / lot of work.
No mirror told me that.
Not seeing my reflection in an other body
                   was looking glass enough.

While looking down
above a dream some times
I do see my old self rolling in another's arms
                   And oh the sight is dazzling.