Night,
          is my lover,
                              with long brown hair,
                                              green eyes,
                                         like texas stream,
                                        with tiny crawdads,
                                        living in the mud,
Night,
           a melody,
                            possibly composed,
                                  by Beethoven,
                                      one night,
                                  on purple ***,
                               that sailors drink,
                                  after a storm,
                                   and land,
                                is as unfamiliar,
                                yet is fantasized,
                                  like the ******,
                            dreaming of **** kiss,
Night,
           long road,
                             Dharma bound,
                                                         bare foot,
                                                           ­               hungry.