This Is The Night

After the performance they tumbled together entangled each with the other still thrilled drunken laughter stains the air with splashes of vulgarity here & there cats like stone statues stare sullenly scattered among this Venetian square. The night is warm & wears the perfume of flowers in its hair. A moon plays peek a boo hides behind clouds & churches. A gondola frets in its sleep tries to escape its mooring. A kiss exists in the darkness oddly theatrically audible yet without bodies to support it it drifts loudly invisible. The lips of waves sip at the city whisper secrets. The puppets not saying anything are untangled with curses bundled into colourful boxes speckled with luminous stars & various universes. The night, for the moment is over and the crowd disperses some coupled tightly others walk only with their shadows. The puppets smile quietly. They’ve seen it all before.