Leaving Santorini, 3 a.m.
This, an homage to our shared language in
the ghost ship’s ballroom — we waited
with bated for a flame to take
liberty with the 80’s decor and
cat tongue carpet.
How the night dances thru moonlight,
a port city — splashing sea to sky, or
is it heavens? We haven’t listened like this for
a while: our eyes in place while the world spins.