Anonymous dreams curled through our minds like smoke,
But we knew them like old friends before the brittle vision broke.
Run out of the house with a paddle from her wooden spoon,
We drifted and soared while lying motionless on the dune.
On our backs and staring at the technicolor sun through closed eyelids,
"We are made of wings; we are just minds, and we're flying," you said,
And then I put my hand to my forehead and opened my eyes a squint
And what I saw and what I was were lost forever in that blue firmament.