Carolyn Gregory: Leaving the Theatre of Dreams (for Peter)

Tonight I walk through spring sadness,

the nostalgia of dreams remembered and foregone,

familiar places where we wrote our own epitaph,

misspoken lines and rooms seen in the wrong light –

deep purple, not auroreal dawn.

In the film, the girl is a patched rag doll

with hair that changes colors every few days

and the boy, driven from work to ennui.

Running for the train, he is always out of time.

Of course, they come together magically in the film.

Of course, they argue,

once the illusions start to slide.

Tonight, I wanted to drink warm saké to forget

these streets in my old city

where we bought orange tulips

and lay down together, only to wake

to our differences

and how there was no turning back

to the golden room we shared.

Copyright 2019 Carolyn Gregory

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