Clear sky aftersun.  Star bright.  Erotic light.  First astro-fixate I embrace tonight. 
Thus the cosmos seduces me climactically (and willingly).
And my microcosmic moment of self succombs (irresistably).
Think PEZ dispensing.  Imagine 'Crack is a happy sound."  And "Who is the Funny Man?  I'm glad you asked that question."
Then the moon smokes a cigarette.
What does one do when on realizes that one's soulmate is dischronological?

"Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
then marriage would be possible-
Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life."  - Gregory Corso