I can’t afford bed sheets or makeup.
Beautified dreams, somehow, still come easily.
Even in poverty, the luxury of abstraction
Soothes me daily, in depression or inspiration.
Streetlights on snowy nights
Hold more potential than money or connections.
Shadows in the urban landscape,
More real than set ideals or purchased thrills.
Somewhere is an inevitability
Waiting to be dreamed into vibrant shapes.
Magenta rain against black skies,
Sleeping bodies forgetting their encroaching doom.
I can’t afford bed sheets or makeup,
But in my mind, I repose against splendid fashionings.
The faintest glimmer of peace and satisfaction
Awakes, and gives me space to keep imagining.