How sad the moon must becenturies of poets explainto hang so dimly in the skyvague beacon in the raincircle behind passing cloudsgazing down from her

For sad people like us it helps to have pictures— or rather, new pictures to displace familiar ones. Old pictures don’t change. I once had

Poor lovers, we know our parts none too well, nor our cues. We kiss in the dark, backstage, under the glow of EXIT, near stacked