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An Odd Set of Waking Dreams

She was in one before, also, I can't say what.  The second - she and her man were involved in some type of game, they were in a cage or box.  I could see them through one wall, and I must have said something.  She came over and spoke to me, sorrily of course.  She was large.  I wish.  The third - It was like Hamilton St., sloping down, I was seated at a great, round table with many I didn't know.  We were playing cards outside, in the street, the snowy street. The cards were falling off of the table and down from me, I bent to pick them up.  Then, at the bottom of the hill I saw her. She walked to the edge of the intersection with a red bicycle.  She turned around and got on.  As she passed, she looked up.  I waved.  She didn't.  But I'm sure she saw me.  I was wearing my black hat.  This happens after I tell myself I will forcefully push her out of my conscious thoughts when she is in disruptive, damaging form. Now she is elsewhere.  Like life itself, my mind is twofold.

            I can't help but think,
            what you may be doing.
            I can't help but write,
            just one sappy poem about it.
            I wish I could know what your days may be like,
            and that from there I could speculate.
            If only a reference were there,
            except for the nothing of my conjecture.
            You've robbed me of a goddess,
            you, hiding in the months,
            apart from my sight so long,
            but I cannot help but wonder,
            I can't help but think.

As I wait for understanding, all I get is wise or otherwise,
                                                 and it's all nothing, later.