Here is the moon over bay
the high whistling of a stranger
who must know you
to move that hungering through his teeth

here is a very slow dancing
soft light, the underground conversion
to the cataclysmic view

quickened moving steeple shadows
wristwatch, dropped down a grate

Here is the screen
the credits are rolling
it means we're transparent
we've nearly caught up
and the music score is drifting upstairs

Let me wake up take me with you
harmonies coursed through telephone lines
the white gaps on an apple where you
kissed too hard