I want to walk the thin line,
to carry my baton and a fancy hat; I want to
scroll down the pages of an empty text,
and feed the demons and the ducks.

Drape me in silk scarves and we will go caterwauling,
emptying the darkness from the night with our howls,
bring the moon down from heaven and
ride her through the spinning clock,
and come down, shatter our drinking glasses,
purring our disquieted hearts to sleep.