by Ron Padgett

Pretty little angel eyes
on a dark background
follow you into the foreground
and then close the moment

you feel they are
about to tell you something.
Do you wish to continue yes
or no, please indicate.

The angel eyes reopen,
this time with tears in them
and welling with even more tears
but this time it’s your eyes

that close and inside
there’s the song you sang
when you weren’t afraid
anymore and a dog is barking

at a dark building in the dark,
parts of a collage without glue
whose pieces can be moved
around inside your head

that has neither ceiling nor floor,
for the house flew away
with the angel that keeps
coming back to look at you and cry.