The American Dream

You told me once about your dream of us eating anchovies by the beach

but then you changed your mind about eating animals

So we drank champagne, making silly promises walking hundreds of miles together

fucking for hours

talking, talking.

I run down empty Santa Monica beaches every day wondering what you miss the most - and I have this image in my head:

You’re sitting in your suspenders on the bed

you pretend you have forgotten I’m away and you wait

I’m coming

I’m actually coming - honey, stay there. I am coming because on the first night we met when we said goodbye I realized

I’d never want to say another goodbye to you.

Your time and mine - everybody’s time accelerating -

and the sky above - a sad blue place.

We keep counting moments, awaiting flights and big awards,

but all the food me and you ate,

all the times you woke me up at night

that’s it.

No terrible arguments, no apocalypse just yet

your vain friends, my vain friends, whatever / we can’t have it perfect - the world, the love, the collapsing American dream.

But as usual, you don’t believe dreams can fall apart and you lie there naked in the dark, dreaming.