November verse 14: On waking from a dream of a friend who has been dead for many years You left a note and neatly folded clothes beside the famous cliff; left the life and loves you'd shouldered; vanished. But you left a whiff of disbelief, and time's a traitor: someone found you decades later, now not Damien but Bob, in Tassie with a uni job. No note this time, a rope your chosen tool: your mother mourned you twice. This time there was no artifice. Yet last night to my dream, unfrozen, fugitive from death you came, with warnings not to say your name.