love: variations 1

you have your being in a house of flesh and blood that looms large like a dream in the dark landscapes of my mind where the coyote calls and reckless phantom riders thunder through the night in pursuit of unicorns, whitman dreams and wild mescaline visions, a house like no other where nymphets frolic in enchanted gardens and troubadours sing of chivalry and the coming of spring, with all your latticed windows and passionate doors that lead to chambers cast in ethereal light on wine soaked nights with stolen kisses under heavenly stairways, but in the morning light your house crumbles to the ground and shadows like smoke swirl and prance and jabber like foreigners and a dust as fine as chalk chokes my mouth.