The moon

The moon talked to me last night
I couldn’t hear her voice well
She spoke of a laundromat
An empty street on a summer’s night
I read Baldwin in a tiny Japanese house
In a tiny bedroom
I smoked minted cigarettes on the balcony
And ate rice balls at 2 A.M.
The moon talked to me every night
Back then
Now I law below a flowered ceiling
The wine went to my head
And the moon speaks to me again
She speaks of laundromats
I guess
She forgot your name.

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Come With Me

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Come with me
Where the nights are soft
And your touch is real

Daydreaming
The sky cries outside
While you keep me here

Lie with me
Your voice in the dark
On a silent tightrope
A strange satellite