The D Spot

I dreamed of a friend that died while I was still in high school. I was my age I am now and he was young…he was about 20 when he died, I was probably 17. I was slow dancing with him in a reality where he was still alive but I knew he would die. I asked him if he loved his life and he said yes. I asked him if he had any inkling of his future and he said “I think I know what you are leading up to and I know it.” I told him he was a fine young man, and that when I was teen, I had a crush on him (true). He smiled and kissed me and said “Just because God gives you one person to love and stay with, it doesn’t mean that you can’t love more than that one person.”
I hugged him and the dream ended.

The slip of elusive words
the stumble over what should be even ground.
I feel myself tilt with the
question unasked
and my words hit the floor
like the thud of cement.
An echo of silence that
chases me through my dream-corridors
and leaves me ultimately stranded.
Alone,
with nothing to wrap around my freezing shoulders
but the threadbare memory of touch
and a whisper of tears.