Dateline: 20 January 1969. With humble apologies to John Keats.
-- From having dreamed so long
With every song and love-scene ever played,
The couple locked themselves in and lay down,
Left the lights on, and stayed
(Locked in themselves)
While the TV went out of tone
(The shadows there
Squawked, more like parrots than before)
And then went out,
Not leaving even a cathode star.
And the newspapers piled up against the door,
And the cleaning woman rattled her keys and called,
And the manager came and went,
And detectives dusted the walls and the floor
Without finding a print
Of foul play or fair: Except for where
A bouquet of red roses stained the air
Like a 3-D greeting card,
Nothing was there.
These two had gone beyond
Reality, desire, illusion.
A dream had ended; a journey had begun.
-- From having dreamed so long
With every song and love-scene ever played,
The couple locked themselves in and lay down,
Left the lights on, and stayed
(Locked in themselves)
While the TV went out of tone
(The shadows there
Squawked, more like parrots than before)
And then went out,
Not leaving even a cathode star.
And the newspapers piled up against the door,
And the cleaning woman rattled her keys and called,
And the manager came and went,
And detectives dusted the walls and the floor
Without finding a print
Of foul play or fair: Except for where
A bouquet of red roses stained the air
Like a 3-D greeting card,
Nothing was there.
These two had gone beyond
Reality, desire, illusion.
A dream had ended; a journey had begun.
