under the weather

I've dreamt of a daughter
and though I can't see her face,
I recognize her smile
as sure as I'm awake.

Her name is "Charly"
short for "Charlotte"
(I was told this by a woman
who has shared enough of the inner tunnels
to take her at least a little bit
serious.)

Today is the last of three days
in a bed, who's sheets sweat flu.
The last of the days
that the dog can't get walked,
and the job won't get lost
by not attending.

Too many times through
to get too attached to
the implications,
too many times through

to still dream.