What little devils shaken of laughter, cramming their little ribs with chuckles,
Fixed this lone red tulip, a woman's mouth of passion kisses, a nun's mouth of sweet thinking, here topping a straight line of green, a pillar stem?
Who hurled this bomb of red caresses?-nodding balloon-film shooting its wireless every fraction of a second these June days: Love me before I die; Love me-love me now.