Before, I would have told you:

Tender is the night,
or so he wrote --
Once, I dreamed a lifetime of Amory Blaine
and awoke red and screaming
in an ambulance of fear.
Metal scrapes the pavement and
the yellow fog (of sodium arc lights)
veils the stars.

Sweet, like raisins in peccadillo
or the soundtrack of Garden State --
sweating lilacs and listening to Nick Drake,
you know she's spinning in my mind.

Struck by her tickling hair
and razor lips (her voice is
feathers falling in my ears) --
Lightning is supposed to kill a man.

I'm standing on the moon
dancing with the earth.