You came to me in a dream last night. It was one of those dreams that is so real and palatable that it scares you. While I'm sleeping everything carries me to you. You dissemble me and we cannot keep our hands off of each other. I take out a needle and suture my happiness to the skin of your fingertips. We're swimming in the middle of the orchard and it's as if our bodies are diagonally parked in a parallel universe. Moon beams whistle through the trees but your light seems more real to me than anything. Insane mistakes have cleaned both our plates, but in this starving world everything tastes like silence. The grass is thick and we are wet so we lay down together to dry off. Suddenly I look at you and have a strange feeling that I am no longer myself. One connection can change everything, like a small sandstorm. That feeling looks like fine white sand just spraying up into our sky like pulverized bones. I didn't understand then, but when I woke up I thought that maybe chance encounters are what keep us going. In the room where I keep my memories of you there is no gravity, so I just keep drifting closer to you and the violent stabs of loneliness burn up and become nothing.