Every body has a language all its own but
we held each other like tangled trees,
folded each other’s clothes, wept
in the garden under a daylight moon.
No one learns anything without help.
The dog stumbles fording a salty creek.
The crow in the walnut tree isn’t quite right.
The palm trees are twisting like angry women.
Still, on Friday, there was a big swell,
and you with your Warhol hoodie, looked
at the great abundance of lemons
and quoted Baudelaire.
D’un ait vague et rêveur elle essayait des poses,
Et la candeur unie à la lubricité.