The moon comes down through the ornamental cherry tree.
Moves across my window like a woman from pain to pain.
I begin to notice who I am pretending to be.
Believe again there is another world
inside this hollow one.
Watch desires come to the window and disappear into distance.
Everything is a substitute for love.
My hand is in your hand until your hand becomes my own.
Even love is also a substitute for love.
The moon floats in a pan of dog water.