MEETING NAN

Last night I met Nan.
I remembered her from when I was
eight and she would have been --
let's say -- fifteen. She was
our neighbor's niece, had come
to visit from the big city. She did
not speak to me and surely
never gave me a thought then
or later. She had long legs
and arms. She was beautiful.

Sixty years later when she walked
into my dream, I recognized her
at once. We exchanged a few words.
I could tell she found me witty,
even charming. She leaned towards
me when I spoke. I made her smile.
We talked some more. She laughed
and touched my wrist with her right
hand. "Kiss me, Nan," I said.
"How did you know my name?" she said.