I dreamed about Marilyn Monroe and Marilyn Monroe was you. You were yourself and Marilyn Monroe. Then I found this picture on the internet. I like the way Arthur Miller is kissing Marilyn Monroe on the forehead. I like imagining that Marilyn Monroe is laughing because of something that Arthur Miller said or did. Here is a moment of human connection frozen. You don’t need to know anything about Marilyn Monroe or Arthur Miller or anything else to appreciate this photo. Until about ten minutes ago I’d forgotten that I’d posted anything for March. Then I uploaded another picture and I saw this one in the media gallery and remembered that I’d at least posted this single photo. Then I wrote this poem—no, it’s not a poem—I don’t know what it is—and I wished I was sleeping next to you, still inside my dream of Arthur Miller and Marilyn Monroe.