and you

who flew off to new york

with all your silver and gold

you who left us dreaming in the hollow of the night

about your body warm beside us

of your hair, a silent and beautiful army, softly invading my pillow.

you who walks the east river in your ballet slippers 

dancing along to the beat of my existence, rays of an ancient star make you real and i will keep my head in the cloud, where the dog has been performing her art on a broadway stage.

soon some rattling jalopy will be our gondola along the homeward peninsula, where a darkened moon will return its glow in the light of the sun.