What thoughts I have of you tonight,
for I walked down the side streets under the trees
With a headache self conscious looking at the full moon.
Dreaming of your enumerations!
I saw you, Walt Whitman! childish old man walking among the aisles.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman?
Will we walk all night through solitary streets?
The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses,
We will both be lonely
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love, past blue automobiles,
home to our silent cottage?
Are you my Angel?
Write poems for me!
"Selections", Allen Ginsberg 1954