No Daydream Can Meet the Moonlight

I jumped on a plane
that was only fit for two, 
the ride there was with the pilot, 
the ride back was supposed to be with you, 
the takeoff was clean, 
the route was indirect, 
we bounced off stars, 
hitting our favorite constellations, 
tracing them with red smoke, 
and just as we were about to land 
we rode off into the sunset instead
and I never met you
at the underground station. 

I rode shotgun on a train
that runs only on the wind’s tracks, 
holding a gun three times the side of me,
    knock my head off clean, 
so I can ride through the tunnels, 
the traffic of the clouds
just in time to reach you 
as the headless mystery of your dreams. 

I took off running
into a cloud of mist
that I figured you were at the end of, 
I stopped to look around twice, 
saw a man with a hat that covered his eyes
and he exposed his black teeth with laughter;
    asked me if he could have a bite.

Then I saw a dark angel 
    with powdered cheeks
    and a pale complexion 
    wings of feather
    soft as sandpaper 
    and I became glued 
    to her coarse affection. 

I got tired of my shadow always moping around, 
so I jumped straight down,
    breaking the ground, 
looked up and saw my shadow
        following me down, 
he said 
“you can try to hide
but there’s no escaping the light”
    and I knew then 
    what I have known ever since: 
No daydream can meet the moonlight, 

I met you at the underground station an hour late, but you were always happy to see me.