That Night In Montauban Poem by Morgan Michaels

There's the port, down there
enjambed with pinkish boats
that ride the silver tide
up and down, up and down.
It's quiet here.
There is the mountain, hoarding the sun's
gold, to no very clear end:
it gilds the little waves,
the lanterns hung aswing
like hand-rolled stars,
everything orderly,
the laws of the sky.
We were never there, not you nor I-
let us dance, dance like we did
that night in Montauban.
I follow my star
I don't much care where-
o'er mountain or sea
or to the dump.
following a star can be fun, you
know, supposing many lovely sideshows
on the roads till dawn.
So westward ho, till it's gone, then;
Then, we had the princely choice
to fold into ourselves
or just go down to dinner.
You loved me, I could tell by your voice-
let us dance, dance like we did
that night in Montauban.