Our self-restraint appalls me. If we were
only weak, better, strong enough to lay
aside the others, cradle the way
you and your loose aura of smells and hair
do. We both know we’re ready. Fear
retains us, of friends and what they say,
of the rush when we let come what may
and public inhibitions disappear.
I trust you, Better Side, keep the upper hand.
They want us to please, but just to please.
Were you and I to find an empty room,
an afternoon to meet with nothing planned ….
Standing, inhaling, giving good-by bises
is breathing proof of all that I presume.

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