Pedrolino and Columbina Take a Trip Across The Atlantic.   by David Rees-Thomas

Harlequin sits on the wing of the plane. He laughs at me. I offer my hand to him one last time but he snarls and shakes his fist.
“She will come for me, you’ll see. She is my Columbina” he shouts.
I don’t argue with him, though I know his quest is futile.
I take a tomato juice from the flight attendant and loosen my tie. I squeeze Columbina’s hand. She smiles.
Au clair de la lune mon ami pierrot. They sang. But, look at me now. She loves me.
I shed a tear. I shall miss the harlequin’s grin.