Perchance to Dream

She was a girl too much alive for breathing,

Not more than an imaginary friend.

She met a man resentful of existence

For not obeying his command to bend.

She traded skins one hour in an evening

To walk among the mortals so beneath her

While the uncreative man whose shell she conquered

Took a stroll among the heavens, robed in ether.

The woman learned the pain of being solid

And how the road at night can smell of pine.

The man learned how to be imaginary

And why a drop of sunlight chose to shine.

And when the 60 minutes finished ticking

On a clock men made to solve the question, “when?”

The woman disappeared again forever

And the man awoke to be himself again.

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