La Notte

I didn’t want to disco dance.
Love songs left me cold
with their monosyllabic lyrics devoid of affection for
animals.
Vivaldi on the record player on a weekend morning,
that’s what got me
out of bed.

Dream palomino, my Sawdust,
Dusty.
Moon reflective
silver halide
apparition.
I made promises:
To brush him until he gleamed,
To ride him every day,
To love him
constantly,
continually.
Real life commitment
made in the dark of night.

I longed.

Interpretive dance
outside my bedroom window.
He ate grass.
He was content.
Just that.
My conjured horse,
a figment of reality.

Jeweled Italian sunlight adorned la sonnambula.
My slumber blossomed gold.
Piccolo, mandolin,
violin.
Dusty blew apart
in brilliant fragments.
Sixteenth notes.
Backlit dynamics.
An exposition of glimmer.
Disco daylight in bell bottom pants.
Before I could dance
I was a seer.

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