Secondary Treatment

I saw you by the light through the shades
Of the sewer plant window.
What strange reverie brought your there
I did not know;
But your eyes were hot moons
Burning through the odor.

There was music,
Tchaikovsky?
Or a garbage can lid?
And there were druids—
There had to be druids, trees you know.

And I could not
Would not
Should not
Understand,
For on such nights
All mysteries are welcomed.