Tomorrow's dream

It is not quite tomorrow and we are on a beach, under a blanket and over indulging. On the waves. On the stars. On the sand. On each other. Our voices muted, but for no real reason. We are alone. We could scream, if we wanted to. If there was reason to.

You are singing backup to the night sky, a bottle of beer in the sand. Constantly glancing at the ocean and the parade of stars above. So stunning. Life dancing in harmony like this. The wind in my hair and my toes buried in the warm sand. You comment that your beer tastes like forever. And I try to remember what that is like.

The waves toss and tumble and we lose all track of time. There is passion burning in your eyes. We raise invisible glasses and toast to “nights like these” and I comment that the wind smells like forever. And you agree, even though I know you are not listening. Not to me. But I don’t mind because you are here and that is all I really need,

On our backs, pretending to pluck stars from the sky, like strawberries. You hand me yours and say I should eat them now. Before they spoil. I laugh, but not at your joke. I laugh at the time that has passed and can never find us again. At least not here.

I feel your hand on mine. Searching, finding. Whatever it is you seek. And you say you shouldn’t fall asleep, not out here under our star-crossed tomorrow. And I say that it’s okay, go ahead. I have made an agreement with sun, not to rise. Not today.