Saturday Night Fiesta

           almost too quiet--trickles of you--
               forming a stream that cascades
                  through my wakeful moments,
               crying, "c'est moi, cher Richard!"

            drums pound out a native dance
               as my senses awaken against your velvet touch--
                 cultures merge in lives fulfilled,
                   a dyadic festival

            your world engulfs my fragility,
               us a separate whole--
                 as multi-coloured queens and their escorts
                   toast our new belonging . . .