The Aqueduct's Up There Somewhere

Lie down someone said and I fell asleep

under the only tree around for miles:

a scrawny thing but sprawling—purple

wood, low to the ground, more bramble

than branches. There were houses hidden

in the canyons, I'd dreamed many times

of a white one with green shutters sunk

into a sandy dune along the San Andreas.

Under the tree I dreamed you were living

there in one of the upstairs rooms; you knew

I was waiting but wouldn't come out, and I

awoke, then, covered in seeds. Had they fallen

from the tree? It looked a long time gone

to be giving up seeds. What would they let

loose on my desert? What kind of unfamiliar,

thorny thing? The word murderous came

straight to mind: for all I knew, and all I had

yet to imagine.