Drooped

Dreams.
Back to the unconscious type of dreams. 
There was a dream I often had 
about an encounter that happened on
one August night in ’92. 
It came to me about once a week, 
sometimes twice or thrice, and was 
a perfect, precious memory 
from my first trip in Montreal
I had not told a soul about: 
the memory of when I had shared a dance 
with a beautiful stranger on a ship.