| Possessed of a world, however popcorn, real, |
| however candy-coated, the children parade |
| the aisles and whisper up in the air, more |
| interested in their persons, their concerns, |
| the night's adventures, the sensuous amplitudes, |
| and less in what they have no need to find. |
| |
| We, in the dark, beset by love and fear, |
| as by a kind of weather without terrain, |
| suffer the unsourced tricks of light, as when |
| at night in the summer, heat lightning thrusts |
| from the dark |
| a world which was not and is gone. |
| |
| We |
| are disturbed to find so much similitude. |
| |
| This unreality is one we know: |
| the actual is no more real than this. |
| I turn in my seat for the reassurance of you, |
| your substance which is there. Wanting a land |
| for our weather, a world of solid shapes, not one |
| the light made, we think to leave, -- for where? |
