delivery

as a holiday gift
a friend hired someone
to send us dreams.
one a day for a month.
visions arrived
in pink envelopes,
addressed to us both.
to me and my soon to be ex.
i kept them all,
even their blushing houses,
folded them into 
a box with their brothers;
love letters, ticket stubs, 
nude polaroids, mix cds
refrigerator magnet.
carcasses of what
love once was, or 
at least what it thought 
of itself as.
had a mind of its own i think,
wasn't really ours to keep. 
i carried a few shells of its 
brief visit to us, 
years beyond any "us"
through another us, now another ex.
the notes, photos mostly gone now
but the gifted dreams i still have, protect.
a droplet i suppose,

still clinging to my rain jacket.

hasn't rained for months,

realizing i'd never stopped 

hoping for it.