The night of course dampened by liquor. Hot breath of the summer

trickling our necks. We follow close behind in this new Eden,

tramping down the saplings. Some of us without shoes, the big breast

of the moon cracked open in front of us. We approach the lake;

night water, wisp of fog. Look, our clothes

there on the banks. There are no clouds. The moon allows us

to see all of it, all of us. We swim to the middle, Vermont mermaids,

buoys of light. Imagine us drifting

to the bottom. How we could sing under there.