The brightest of moons is shining over us
as we take one hundred steps
towards the home of
the philosopher
the musician
the painter
the fishes
the spider

The coldest of winds  is blowing at us
as we are smoking on the balcony
while pondering over
the French man
the plastic bag
the pink book
the city lights
the voyeurs

The greatest of poems are being read by us
as we are drinking wine and juice
while carefully listening to
the repetitive Mexicans
the 5 dollar ******
the thin white duke
the cocktail songs
the local hero

The smell of an old man hits us
as we tumble around in bed
awkwardly discussing
the big soft hands
the great lips
the poetry
the desire
the lust

The sound of the alarm interrupts us
as we are finally face to face
forcing us to stop
the spooning
the laughing
the touching
the kissing
the night