I dreamed you drove secretly
To the end of my path
Seeing me not seeing you
You hide from police and Time
Watching my world
While sketching
Architectural plans
Recipes
Places for my poetry and me
And us upstairs

Summoning myself, now
I smell your leather driving gloves
Mixed with ink and exhaust
In my head
In your stead
Brick by brick
Your building on a corner lot
I’ve begun the mortar
My dream to yours
Although alone, I’d rather not