Sleepwalkers

I can see her sometimes,
hazy but clear enough to identify for sure.
She is sleeping soundly on her side
the blankets slipping off of her
exposing a t-shirt two sizes too big
and panties with the Batsignal on them
because she digs him more than Superman
no matter what anybody says.
A breeze comes from the west,
hushed and gentle under a crack in the window,
and whispers in her ear:
"Come with me my darling to the breakers of the sea,
we'll run into the vanishing and see what we can see.
Follow me, my darling, way out to the ocean black.
We'll walk into the waters and we'll never look back."
Her eyes flit open like butterflies
and she walks out the front door.
The wind whips across her face
like a ship on the rocks.
She roams inconclusively
half-conscious toward a hazy heaven
and never looks back.
then I see me,
omniscient third-person angle over my head
as I sit awake way past my bedtime,
stoned to shit watching through bleary eyes
my tiny TV set
that feeds me lies like apple pie.
The static overruns the monitor
and a gentle voice whispers,
"Come with me, my darling, to a city that never sleeps.
We'll ride the train in circles 'til the morning sunlight creeps
into cyanide eyelids and the joy drives us to weep,
so follow me, my love, to a city that never sleeps."
I pull tight my ragged sweater
and walk into the night.
The win whips my face
like cheap coffee and cigarettes.
She walks over steaming grates in city streets
past burnt-out streetlights and homeless junkies
through the bitter rain and siren shrieks
and into the great nothing.
I make my way through a labyrinth of stucco mini-malls and palm trees
past condominiums full of shiny tragic people
through the salty air and corrosive silence
and into the great nothing.
In the middle of an infinite field of wheat
we stop inches from each other.
we speak no words,
but I'm thinking we could stop here,
rest our weary legs and be content in the middle
together forever in the loving embrace of compromise.
But our minds are made up,
so we pass each other with a wistful meeting of eyes
and together in separation, alone in our hollow union,
we roam inconclusively
half-conscious toward a hazy heaven
and never
look
back.