Milky Way of Impossibility

She wrote,

Can we meet in the desert, 

I will stand with a cactus flower clenched 

between my teeth and balance en pointe.

I will tame snakes and find your serpent

tongue with my eyes closed.

I will usher in the clouds, when it grows hot,

and, should you become thirsty,
demand they rain, at will. 

I will find the rhythm of my ancestors, 

be wildly entertaining with my belly dancer's hips. 

I will never give up. 

Or, we can meet on the nearest moon.

I will skip rocks off its surface

and tell you stories about the blue,

green world, so far away.

We can play hide and seek near the flags

of leaders, and make love when the 

man in the moon goes to sleep.

I will sing through the silence.

I will say only your name.

Perhaps, instead, a crowded restaurant.
The waitress will lead you toward the woman 

with a distinct tap to her foot and noticeable

twinkle to the moon of her eyes.

It will always be me.