On Sunday
I dream of a woman
at an amusement park
with two pink balloons.
Cordless, hovering
just beneath her chin,
they bob like anxious twins
eager to tell me secrets.
She smiles
eyeing my popsicle,
inhales
lifting her dress.
What flavor?
she blushes
as the children whisper
into my ears, inviting me
into the Tunnel of Love
where, wriggling, we ride
the Roller Coaster
twice. Exhausted,
I dream of a woman
at an amusement park
with two pink balloons.
Eye Prayers 3, 1983
