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The neighbourhood was talking in its sleep
With the rock of night on its head
The impenetrable lane was frozen
When quietly
The flying nightdress
Leapt from the terrace
As though it had wings
Or at least was supposed to have wings
In most homes in town
The last scene was playing
The advertisement for which
Had shrivelled, wet with sleep
In every sophisticated window
At that moment, without telling anyone
The sleeping nightdress
Set off in the sky
The curtains went dark in the windows
The red and blue lights went out in the masks' eyes
A strange sleep all over the city
Mistaken advertisements moist with sleep
Ignoring all this, the burning nightdress
Flew away, wildly astray