Hunting Shadows

I thought I could remember
a dream in which we chased
shallow imitations of each other,
afraid to say "wait," and discover
your mockup ambled a touch too loosely-
you never told me I strut so stiffly-
what have I said in my sleep?
If you would have dropped hunting shadows
of me, perhaps, I thought,
when I awoke, my languid fingers
would have smoothed your shivers alive,

and my knee would, before parting
your petal-thighs, linger in the moist cross

where each springy lobe of rear curls
to where your heat evolves into passion.

Instead I ran aground on reality
with a sickening lurch: the dream
I remembered, I had lived, awake,
and so, that night, your thighs would part
so only in dreams.  ¶ 11:32 PM