In my dream I start walking for the shops uptown even though it’s Friday afternoon the jewelry store has display windows crowded with old branches made of dusty silver glitter. I want to take pictures and fumble my new phone out of my pocket, dropping it.

In my dream a jumbled feeling of happiness spreads between us. There is no dog.

In my dream the green is lacquered across the hill.

In my dream it’s the Mazel Toy Company.

In my dream the apartment is barely the size of a closet.

In my dream five figures stand among the boxcars in white robes.

In my dream I walk down, around and through. I fold it until it’s full.

In my dream our plot relies on deploying a new super-abrasive water charged with “citrus husks”. We discuss this under our breaths as we move through the levels of the corporate offices, past the water chamber and out towards the orchards. The time is coming and our conspiracy carries an erotic charge.

In my dream: stacked tables and optimism.

In my dream the plastic  clips are empty and ready for new flyers, but that will happen after the song finishes.

In my dream the tiny stages in the corners of the room are a point of pride: I’ve made them well.