I can see the city
lights out
my window

after painting
cityscapes of
Spain
with that
little set of
watercolors I bought
in that small town
(by the lake)
so much like home
(a trinket in my hands)

each light is like
a poem to me
a song
or laugh
(contained)

if I could contain your laugh
and ship it back to me
away from arid cities
and the red sun
in the sky
I think
it would
look like all the
lights out my window
each night here in Madrid

and as I would lie
to fall asleep
and look at the orange glow
the moon
sitting in the dark blue
sky
I think of all the lights
that can't go out
when I look into your eyes.