The Story She Saw

It’s sad that our only fictions lean
So heavily on the well-known facts.
Of course, reliance on memory

Is truly ineluctable, but
Doesn’t some part of you wish for dreams
That weren’t reheated-leftovers stew?

She said this quite dreamily, in fact,
With an inward look, as if she glimpsed
A land of pure imagination

From a promontory in her skull,
Could just make out a corner of it,
Land beyond any milk or honey,

Beyond giants or the book of weird,
Beyond aliens that look like bugs
Or lizards or humans in makeup,

Beyond drunk gods and superheroes
Like cosplaying warriors on steroids.
What was it? Once there was a planet

Decorated with immortal lives
That knew no pain, whose pleasures never
Dimmed from mere familiarity,

Who were never hungry, never tired,
Never once disappointed in love.
She smiled, faintly. What was it she saw?