a fishing voice
talked me
over the sill
into wet grass

i found the coin
moon
just within grasp

‘where’s the car?’
‘where’s the car?’ i asked

‘there is no car’ they said

there was the plain town
under our tired feet

treading down the nearly morning
till we came to the white wood hall

the white horse
stood on its hillside
browsing moonlight

close stars

out performed streetlights
sleeping parents

light years away