lion’s mane
sometimes my dreams sing me to sleep, almost as if they are whispering a fantasy that i believed in at age twelve. i slurp my hot beverage and swap the truth for mine. watching without really knowing it, i hold onto a puff of scent that resembles tack and powder. in the fifth grade i got so close to winning class president that i almost saw it in my sleep. my would-be predecessor said it was a “very close” race, with a silent whimper that i couldn’t comprehend. it’s taken a while but i think i get it now, maybe.