As we stared out blankly
at the cosmic campfires,
I wondered if the cheek's dew
was for me or for her.
I reached over and softly
held her ring-awaiter.
On the far side
of the whale road
my loaf-dougher
knew nothing
but my serpent’s words.
Tomorrow I would ride
that iron swan
back to the other side
of the whirling stage,
and my slice of stolen cake
would become another
man’s daily bread.

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