Disassociations A stand of leaf-blown trees — They could be anywhere. But they, like me, are there, With you. A gentle breeze tattoos Your presence on my skin, alive. The haze across the water Mists reality, mutes what's true. But photographs prove That I was there With you. The fog lifts from this mountain lake, But confusion does not me forsake, I'm still confused, still dreaming lost reality. Raindrops - spring or autumn - are not the same But each drop makes me bleed a memory I can't assert, confirm, divert, deny, erase. I've seen this place — If only in disassociations with you.