Kiss you on the cheeks, that double-round coital zone, the lovely figureI have loved over and over
In a dream of you, the lover who comes and liftseyes from the trouble of me.
Mirage, I know you're a poor fuck; what I wantis the light, the light, to wake
To a tray of eggs and coffee, newspaperwith a good review and the cuckoo-sound of children
Eating in the kitchen, my empire clamouringwith good clocks.
