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.