Suite Suiteblack

He said poppies are dreams that lose their rank in a harem (appeasement, confetti made from the skins of green apples)

She said popsongs by men who lose their rank in a dream (but I don't blame them)

He said balloons left over from the impromptu festival, the configuration of flags (two hourglass bottles of cream soda on a marble countertop) Harlem is Nowhere

She said propaganda left over from the film that was too realistic. ('Our Town" with a black cast.)

He said is that the one about the drag queens imitating Madonna in Paris

She said your ideas came from men who duck their lines in your diagram

Cowards, He said

(The word play between them gets very intense when there are fewer feelings to confuse things)

You're the coward, she said, of my dreams. Picturing their bare feet stepping the poppies on the way to Oz. Beacon/beacon, soft crumbling tonic in a slowing down voice which speeds up to believe you're in the word with me