dropping light
like bright pebbles
or like an extravagant ball
racing above the clouds in regular lunar phases
blurring the gap like opium blurs the brain
perhaps of a famous schoolboy poet
who wrote a memoir about a voluptuous woman
with a skill giving French lessons
to the poor
instead of using her beautiful voice to teach diction
and how
without a penny
and only a single friend
became a successful actress on stage
and early screen,
who spoke with her golden voice on the radio
from where it was heard
by Gertrude Stein
who immediately wanted to visit for a book idea,
but the hour was late,
the suggestion less than honest,
and the moon had already fallen from the sky
on a star-filled night.
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