I heel, ball, toe on a beaten path
in the cold and the dark.

The light of the cartoon moon spills

over my skin,

suddenly braille.

Alone and shivering I begin to move.
No longer on the path in Ohio,
but in the firelight in Bogota'.
Golden flesh.
Twisting and body pulsing
with the beat of the music.


Back home where it’s cold and dark.
Dizzy and sick with heat that

isn’t there with me at all.

You can’t be here with me either.

When I sleep,

I’ll make like Eloisa, unbounded.

I suppose for now,
The cartoon moon will have to be company enough.