The Moon Through A Telescope

You and I will sit on top of the grey moon

With an orange fire tickling

The underside of the black sky.

We’ll drink paisley wine from conch shells

And touch each other for the first time.

We will dance from steepletop to steepletop

The world over

While you hum your songs smiling.

Stars will sparkle.

We’ll dive for all of the gold in the warmest of Caribbean Seas

Never coming up for air.

We will make love

On an Indian Blanket

In the middle of the red prairie.

Jealous wolves will howl

In their wet dreams

And the prairie grass will sing us to sleep.

You and I will sit in a clawfoot bathtub together

Smoking cigars in a bubble bath

With the TV on

Pretending we are movie stars.

Once and for all we’ll prove, in fact

That the moon really is made of cheese.