the other night, i had a dream about a stranger.

Standing beside you, I'd feel your shoulder warm against my arm.

Our elbows might brush, but not quite ever fully touch.

I would avoid your eyes, and God forbid any type

of further analysis of the lines

on the palms of your hands.

Because I know if I saw them, if I dared touch you, if only

to trace and try to follow their path,

I would see how those lines--

so deeply marked on the palms of your hands--

looked so similarly, so hopefully, so painfully,

just like

mine.