the gracious circles have no word for promise
we will not go silently
though our sound is hardly more
than the action of a cool brook
and the dirt leaves trampled
by an innocent dogs euphoria

distant sirens and cop car radios
return us to the master of the city
where i’ve come to kidnap the love of my life
deflowered, born again and veiled
by recordings of Bill Evans as heaven
lays in ambush