Like hash and cigarette ash
He had a way about him
But familiar too
There was a green dragon
Sitting on his forearm
Not a force to be reckoned with
Nor a reason to be intrigued,
Left as quickly as he came
Silhouette outlined by the remains of his scent
A thought maintained, lingering in my brain
Gone like the dream that never was
Remembered like the thought that never left
Who he was, was who I am?
Were neither a thing of trueness?