I met James Dean in the early hours of the morning, in the twilight between consciousness and sleep.
the reel was set in monochromatic black & white
and the set was New York City
circa early 1950's, autumn.
we were racing down the steps to the street below,
our feet skipping down each step with such ease.
my white shoes matched the dress
and I could feel the cold breeze on the street.
he held my hand in his,
and with our arms linked
I could feel the warmth.
he kept mumbling intelligible words under his breath and smiling.
we crossed the street,
following the men in identical suits and hats
and the reel ended.
you are the morning,
I am the night.