MoonlightI know when the sun is in Chinabecause the night shining other-lightcrawls into my bed. She is moon.Her eyes slit and yellow she is the lastone out of a dingy bar in Albuquerque—Fourth Street, or from similar avenuesin Hong Kong. Where someone else has alsoawakened, the night thrown back and asked,'where is the moon, my lover'?And from here I always answer in my dreaming,'the last time I saw her was in the armsof another sky'.