Tonight in the fragrant air
The New Moon is a cradle
Hanging from the Evening Star.
Latin music on the car radio,
Dark forest on all sides-
As Beauty, God, that’s how
You drive us mad!
Around a curve,
The cradle of the New Moon
Is almost touching the ground.
If I keep driving
Maybe I can climb
Onto that swing,
And like her
Become full,
Then quietly
Disappear.
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