Just beyond the Eucalyptus trees lined up
Like chorus girls with skinny arms
Holding out their skirts
The bench beckons.
A name’s carved in the wood and a title--
“lover of dogs, dancing and sunsets.”
I enjoy the company of ghosts
And talk to this one lightly:
Did you look at the hills to the south
And think of pyramids?
Did the sky seem painted with a sponge?
The fog veils the trees, a shroud deep
with ghosts on an evening stroll.
The lover of dogs, dancing and sunsets
drifts in that mist beside me--I feel
A change in gravity.
To every question, she answers, yes---
Yes everything stays a mystery
even after death,
yes, I'd rather feel the breeze
than be it---and always her voice
sounds much like my own.
yes, I'd rather feel the breeze
than be it---and always her voice
sounds much like my own.
