It was a dream, within a dream Wrapped in a memory. The streets were wet and empty- Deserted in the middle of another rainy night. Running fast to no end, but as the distance rolled out Found it easier to drop to all fours and gallop. Hands clattered along the shiny brick As a dog’s claws on ceramic. Slipping left-sliding right; Gaining precious purchase then sliding back, Making no progress. I was telling this to my Aunt Peggy- Not in her doughy middle age- But as she had been. Slim and boyish; twenty-five to my Lusty Sixteen. She leaned close, All overbite and collar bones And told me that I should. That she would. I whiffed flowers Hyacinth- At the base of her neck. You should, she whispered, Eyes wide open. Her mouth tasted of spearmint. Her soft tongue, Alive and welcoming. You should, she whispered.