These fantasies dancing across the night

These fantasies dancing across the night
seem to be lights that I cannot identify
in the obscure distance. I can hear a voice
begin to sing, begin to pronounce reasons

for our awful separation. The dark jeans
and playing between the pillows where we named
the states and stations. She had cut her hair
and the train was passing, I picked an orange

and it tasted bitter. Fantasies sleeping
during the day and moving along at night
because they're hiding from something. I can

still feel her hands on my arms and shoulders,
her eyes on mine. These dreams wander about
the stars and have their meetings silently.