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Dis
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I told you,
I dreamt I was kissing the most lovely face,
enrapt in giddy, heady, kissbliss stirrings;
But the watchman warned me "Don't be fooled!
That isn't a man, it's a monument."
I pulled my lips from my inamorato,
left his sweet, warm skin,
and watched, aghast, as he slowly turned to stone.
I was, it would seem, in error.
And so I told you this,
and from 2300 miles away you said to me,
"Hey, listen,
the next time you dream you're kissing someone,
try to make it me."
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