it wouldn't be the same

I dreamt about the peregrine last night. I was trying to tie an extremely difficult knot. I had a tool-kit; three small sticks or maybe they were bones or antlers. They were roughly carved and progressed from a straight stubby little tool to one with an el-shape. I was using all of them at once to help create this difficult knot, holding one in each hand and one in my mouth.

He appeared in my dream and I wanted to smile but I was afraid of dropping my tool. He walked behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder. It felt wonderful; it felt like love. I woke up and tried to remember how his skin felt. I put my lips against the inside of my arm, but it’s not the same.

I think about whether he still wants me when he’s drunk on Friday nights. I wonder what he would do if I called him at twelve-thirty tonight. I think he would come, but it wouldn’t be the same.