Diamonds on Black Velvet

In my heaven I see the mischievous taxis again on Fifth Avenue

And pass the first and second and third security guards

In their rumpled blue shirts so unlike the splendid robes of angels.

"Morris, I'm here to see Morris," I'll say again in some other name and

Pass through the sealed doors that part because I've been admitted

By the perfumed hand of a cousin so unlike the palms of a trusted saint.

Here in the heart of the guarded place so very unlike heaven

The plump hands of the jeweler will withdraw bright stones again

And lay them out on black velvet so like the stars in the ink black sky.

So like the stars and the sky that I must offer to win my heaven.