A Longing for Harold

I had dreams that were purple

and starched with crayons

my own set of crayons

and they were perishable

because one day I came home and found them replaced

with ones that didn't smell the same

or look the same

or feel worn by me

And I was beginning to be thirty

but longing for white pajamas and skyscrapers and alligators

and things you were never able to give me

things I could only give myself

before I smartened up

and started going to bed without so much as the turn of his page