Jacob Lawrence, Dreams No. 1 (1965)

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October 8, 2002:

The food court at San Francisco State. She's opposite me at a table for two. Her hair is died red with henna, shoulder length, wavy. She laughs: I can hear the musicality of her voice, her distinct way of rising an octave when she begins cracking up, throwing her head back, mirth to the heavens.

I awaken confused.

There's an electrical charge which still pulls me to her, even in dreams.

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