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Can’t quite recall the month
Can’t recall the year
City a gorgeous moth
We the lepidopterists
Thronging tracheae through
Streets of its segmented body
Gulping Bohemian brew
To the accompaniment
Of screeching Vivaldi
Being wise and fresh
Of years we ridiculed the old
Hallucinating gothic and
Baroque boastful gold
Nerve cords of black poplar
Branches with ganglia of nests
Latrine graphite wishes
Good luck and all the best
To trireme of the republic
Assail the western seas
Eighteen we were and referred
To as fellow and the Miss
Time mattered little
As did progress along its
Swirl I didn’t yet own
A razor you didn’t own a curl
Oh but how you taught me
To see things for what
They are to pull down
The tapestries that intentionally
Mar the flow of the infinite
Just then for once I witnessed it
Towards bubbling
Plaster of the dome
Shot out away from you
These rays of blinding chrome
Causing heterocera to flutter
In the frightening light 
Unfold its dim-gray wings
Take off in muffled flight