Dream Movie, 1978

So I ran the dream movie last night.
First time in many weeks darling;
but now it is always a dream
a vision of limbs and gold wire
and the fantasy grows with its details
becoming more precise:
you measured against the screen of me
buried deep within your tourniquet of flesh.
I can do it now, knowing it will never be real,
never disturbed by the lack of your care.
It's okay of course.
I'd rather be friends.
But it is a diminishing of the heart,
a failure of the soul.