I am satisfied
with my daily bread
a pinch of salt
a cup o’joe
a little touch of you at night.
A sweet dream while resting on sleep’s shoulder
drifting on sleep’s shore
a short doze, a light sleep
awakened by the keening of gulls
and the clanging of buoy bells.
Suddenly you and I
are dancing in Brazil
in the tavern by the sea
where Donga made the samba
dancing to the rhythms of a new dawn.
Apollo risng o’er Corcovado
you wave to me from a yellow shore; beckoning
like the banner of a free country
“Venha para mim!”
throwing a kiss across the water.
My shirt is wet;
which one of us was weeping?
Only the night shirt knows