Tea and martini

“It isn’t popular or safe

to say I love him”,

I heared someone saying

while feeling the touch

of the moon,

which was white

and ever so glittery

As in a nocturne day-dream,

a fat and plumy space grew

unannounced

between me and I

No longer you and I

- just that odd space
in an inner midland

and you were within.

I don’t know if it is the moonlight

Tom Waits’ voice, this broken city

or just plain good old wine fooling,

but it strikes me as if

I am a person of extreme beauty

sitting with you in this crowded and noisy parlour

silently drinking tea and martini.

The present is whole forever.

The future isn’t meant to be.