If I Could Fly (Dreaming Real)

Somewhere, perhaps California
there are lemon trees, full and green,
a sour taste in my mouth
hand on my lips
it smells like salty palm trees
eyes wide open, unable to look away
watching small rivulets
...the piers drip oceanwater.
Sick and shaking
boats sway with the indecisive tide
Run faster, the encroaching dark
rolling waves shatter on my skin
My tongue tastes scarring pain
bright yellow...sunless
blurred lines
falling into the water,
close your eyes...