Dream-ballad   Last night I dreamed I merely died then walked with Shakespeare at my side. His vivid people were in view, but smaller now like residue.   We two were easy, one-to-one as though from single dust undone, and in this ultra likelihood we took all past as understood,   and spoke of loves when we grew fond on by-ways that were demi-monde, and how, to prompt a truelove’s laugh, was to unveil our better half,   where love was magma, solar flare, yet also numen of not-there. “If I loved her and she loved me where was the…