Dreaming About Her

It's a pointless endeavor
dreaming about her.
It's only making me feel
more alone than ever.

Maybe it's not her
that I want, but rather
something different than
the single suburbanites

who have nothing to
talk about except work
and weekend shopping trips
and prevouis bad dates.

They want it all
but the dreams are too simple
and they want the man
of their dreams the same way.

But her, oh her.
You can hear her smarts.
You can feel her emotions.
You can sense her sensualities.

I dream a lot about her,
probably too much.
But it's always the good ones
that a man never forgets.

But it's always the good ones
that are already spoken for
and so there I am,
pressed against the glass

watching inside and
wishing for something
that cannot be, caught in
a longing that some folks

would call a sin.  I guess
for now I'll be that sinner
until I can figure how to
turn around and walk away,

finding some sense of comfort
in my solitude until someone
else who can be available
and bless me with her presence.