—or too late-

Are carved up in the night clear sky-
In the transcendental pool of information-
I am your stunning mistress-
Or you are my husband with a pretty wife–

It doesnt matter how the history turned-
Or how the future will drive its highways or country paths-
In the heavenly pool of information-
We were holding each other in a humid taxi-
Rushing through sunrise–

I may end up in an ashram or on stage-
What is the chance?
You may drink your last glass at a country bar-
And open the next bottle –
Somewhere in France–

We may walk hand in hand on that north coast peer-
Covered in plastic-
Direction one way-
Bathing in champagne and lipper, and tears-
Looking for a lighthouse for sale–

And migrating with birds towards south-
Aiming too high-
I will see your face too late or too early-
Carved up in the night clear sky—

© Dalia Lane

No Comments Yet.

Leave a Reply