our prayers fall down his window
and roll down flanders of rusted out cars
they harmonize with the sirens
and mix with that racket downstairs
they wonder out into the traffic
emilio's misguided prayers
the moon is emilio's mistress
on her there's no journeys back
some nights she comes to him naked and cold
and some nights she only wears black
when the full moon flows from his bottle
somehow there's always a fight
when the moon and the lunatic dance