the same moon as rostand

in a used-book store in san diego:

a tattered old copy of cyrano de bergerac
some pages gone completely
but the important ones
there
(aren't they all important?)
and i read it
and read it
and read it
and spoke through the rhymes
like a spinning wheel
on an airplane landed upside down

and i promise
i'll speak only in verse
and put twelve syllables in every line i write
and you'll fall asleep to the sound of my voice
under the same moon as rostand