Dreaming in the afternoons

i dream of change
like i dream about uneasy seasons
or of fitful warriors dying in chariots that fly faster
than comets;

i dream of change
like it is something that i remember happening;
a glass memory that i have mistakenly placed in someone
else's hands -
hands that i thought were capable enough to hold it.

i dream of change
as if i were
a marching hunger artist,with bagfuls of ideal sacrifices
hoisted on my shoulders.
i know i am tired but my hunger means nothing.
my beliefs propel me to the stars.

i dream of change
as if you were here
as if there were, again, boatrides and candied apples
during eternal afternoons that were as glossy as
newness.

but most of the time, i wake myself out of these dreams.
you can never know where all this freedom will take you.