There were several stages
One painful, one nauseating, one tricky, two transforming, one soft, one quiet. Silent and safe.
They were all different scoops of gelato in one mystery cone.
We were waiting for each other. We considered the possibility of you waking up in the middle of the night in 1990.
I want to dream tonight, but you fell asleep before me.
And so I must wait for these tempting thoughts to condensate the window glass,
splitting the view for morning to materialize earlier,
to have a lit up sunup, where winds cover suns that still glare because
nature wants to be pretty on those days.
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