(You can watch the dust sparkle right now if it's clear where you live. Where I live, as is usual, there is nothing but cloud, cloud, and cloud.)
Earth races her car round the corners all night at a tilt -- they have clocked her at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour round the square -- dragging fixated Moon in the pull of her infatuation. Now she grins her head right out the window of this hooligan car and feels the cool mist of the comet's tail full in her face.