Halloween Nights

[Robert Crisman]

A young man, mid-20s, walks up a street while the sun washes down, bathing Eden.

A young woman stands in a yard with a white picket fence; she is placid, unmoving, her eyes on the man.

The man stares at the woman as if through a thin film of gauze; in a dream they embrace, become one; a hollowed voice whispers, "I wanted to see through your eyes..."

Then one more dream, a Halloween dream wreathed in mist; a man and a woman face off in the moonlight and she mouths the silent invective of ages.

Later he dreams of a lake in the mountains and soundtracked red words that spill from the sky  in slow motion: "Our love, you said later, was theft winging south..."

A man, middle-aged, bolts upright in bed, mouth open, eyes wide, his face a clenched echo of lost, misty dead...

[Robert Crisman]

Well, hell, I like it. Good work, Rob!