Apricot Press

In this dream, a gondolier,
dressed in a Santa Claus costume,
is manoeuvring his vessel in and out,
over and back through the canal.
It is Venice of course.
We are his passengers,
I’m holding your hand,
you’re in a head-scarf and Jackie Kennedy glasses.

It segues (the dream) into ski slopes
and we are both making movements
similar to that Santa Claus was;
in, I guess, Switzerland;
we are breathless
and kiss at the
end of the
piste.

Finally, there is a surfboard of immense thickness and length,
we’re both astride it trying to make exact-same movements
to keep on top but keep falling off
and re-emerging, grabbing our surfboard,
kissing each time we mount it.

Until this time
and I surface alone,
splash and panic,
panic and splash
calling out your name…

Photo credit: eddie wen