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I woke up and kissed you and left the room. I woke up and you were lying in bed and I leaned over and kissed you before I left the room. Before waking up I was asleep and before I was asleep I was awake and might have been kissing you but after I was asleep I was definitely awake and definitely kissed you and left the room. I woke up. Kissed you. And left the room. There was snow on the ground. In the room. I don’t know how we slept there, in the snow. I don’t know how the snow got there. I woke up in the snow, then I kissed you, then I left the room. When we went to sleep I don’t remember there being any snow and maybe I dreamt it. Maybe I dreamt the snow. I woke up, kissed you, maybe dreamt the snow, and left the room. After I left the room I don’t know what happened in the room. I know what happened to me after I left the room but I don’t know what happened to you. I hope you tell me some day. I hope that some day you tell me what happened after I left the room. I hope that some day after today (today’s when I left the room) you tell me what happened. I hope you tell me I dreamt the snow. I hope you tell me I dreamt the snow because I was worried about you sleeping in so much snow. I was worried about you sleeping in so much snow even though I had been sleeping in as much snow. Assuming I hadn’t dreamt it. Maybe I dreamt the snow. Maybe I left the room I left for a reason. Maybe I left the room after kissing you because I was dreaming snow. Maybe people need snow to dream. Maybe you weren’t dreaming enough snow, so I left you with mine, in the room, after kissing you. Maybe you had snow in your mouth. Maybe you were cold but I don’t think so. Maybe you were cold but I don’t think so because I kissed you and when I kissed you you were warm. Not just warm as you usually are, but very warm. Maybe I left the room, after kissing you, because you knew about snow, because you knew about dreaming, because I needed to find the snow, find out about the dreaming for myself. I woke up and kissed you and left the room.

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Sara Woods SARA WOODS is a poet living in Portland, OR. She is the author of Wolf Doctors (Artifice, 2014), Sara, or, the Existence of Fire (Horse Less Press, 2014) and the chapbook Speckled Flowers (Persistent Editions, 2013). Find her at moonbears.biz.

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