Hot Air

Who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?

(and if you and I should get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:

go sailing away and away sailing into a keen 
city which nobody's ever visited,where
always it's spring) and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves” 
― E.E. Cummings, Collected Poems