Whenever I close my eyes
Before the phosphenes come
My wonderwall appears
He smiles, and nudges his glasses upward
A frisson runs up my neck
And down my spine each time

He holds my hand
We’re in a place I’ve never seen before
Where the people run rantipole
And the animals piffle

We sit at the tops of trees
And we sing aubades, love songs at dawn
The sun has just barely come up
And the sunrise itself
Will never be as eyesome as the boy next to me
Although it will come close

And when night comes
The plants are all worshippers of the stars
And all there is eigengrau
The perfect color in perfect darkness

He nudges his glasses upward once more
And I am no longer an aesthete
And the aureate stops
There is no longer any fancy or flowery language

I’m still in bed
Just a girl in her bed with her eyes closed
And finally the phosphenes come unwelcomed

And I become an eccedentesiast once more