Matadors gore bulls,

and earth bears scrounge honey.

We are adrift on a motionless boat

of an abandoned railroad station.

Old splintered floors creak,

and on a rusted round clock

time has stopped.

In a lunar reverie our lips meet in silence.

We inhale a hidden fragrance.

A voyeur bear watches us

poking at a window ridden

with dead green bottle flies.

We escape into the noisy night air.

The soundsnap of wind slices through leaves.

Hand in hand, we bounce on telegraph poles

until the tracks merge.

We discover the unity we longed for.