CXXXVII.

valentine's day
and the sun sits atop the sheraton.

blinding us on the highway
so that all i see is a tent vapor
isolated like a dream
even time's hourglass is full of sand

homeward to an eastern oasis
decaying distant towns like your sea horizon lights

wrens tell us spring is on the way.
keep on writing me songs
and maybe we'll tilt into something bright
like the sun atop the sheraton.