Often, in dreams,
things look different from the way they are
but we still recognize them.
That’s my school, but it looks nothing like
Lindsey doesn’t look the same in this dream,
but I know it’s her.
There she is, standing
outside the burning school,
aiming a garden hose at the sky.
She looks beautiful.
She’s wearing Abercrombie.
Her makeup is done perfectly.
The more I stare at her,
the more flames rain from above.
Jealousy burns inside me,
as if I’m breathing in smoke.
I wait for Lindsey to turn to me.