Little Girl Dreaming

We sit, five of us, naked
around the meeting table
in the office of men
who arrive, late, in suits and ties,
and we laugh at how silly it is —
smart women, business women,
and these men — these men —
insisting their way
as we play along, again
then he calls me girl
— a little girl —
and we laugh.

Later, in the lobby,
as I hold up a bedsheet
to my hide my self,
I see across the room
the lover who loved
with shouts and shoves;
he smiles and we embrace
like old friends,
then he shape-shifts
bear, fox, jackal, demon
holds a fist up to my face
and laughs — he laughs —

And I wake up, naked
deciphering dreams,
their train window filmstrip
passing, passing
passing ever so briefly
resurfacing to remind
and retell stories
almost forgot — but not — ever.