everything was perfect and beautiful and quiet. silver threads woven into my gloves and the falling snow glittered in the ugly glow of the streetlight. i couldn't hear my own feet on the ground, and the water rushing under the bridge below drowned out the cars, all creeping slowly along the frozen streets. the wind and the cold didn't touch me.

later we sat with hot drinks and breakfast (at nine p.m.) on the table between us. the restaurant was deserted, and he made me laugh until my stomach hurt.

i don't know how i ended up in this dream.

...born at the right time

[ paul simon ]