The groove in black vinyl got deeper
What was that light? A migrant
I slid into a scat,
and in the purple silk
and the Canoe
there was sleekness and a rear-view mirror.
And the Angels flew out of the cloisonne vase
They were the rachitic forks hanging in the midnight kitchen.
And so I called you after the house was still.
My turquoise Zenith melting
And you asked: what was that light?
I was spinning. I was the trees shivering,
and the snake of coiled light on the ceiling
I wasn’t a fool in a satin tux.
I was Persian gold and blue chenille
I was the son of the Black Dog of Fate.
I said: I saw a rainbow of glass
above the Oritani Theater.
Lord, lead me from Hackensack New Jersey
into the white streak of exhaust.