Thursday, November 17, 2022

Chill After the Show

The night has cat eyes,
Thousands pounce the windshield 

As the cars move through space
Under the whole's baton 

That swings in my mind like a lantern,
As if to music already there

And the cars would appear
Without my eye.

The mad clavinet that plays in my head
Overtakes their sound

For the feeling of gold
Beyond the Norm's sign. 

It must be open all night
As they claim,

How else could each booth tell its secret
From a room I have never seen?