When does ire
become hate?
Or desire
something more,
which we late-
r may regret?
Might we abet
what we abhor?

That fine line
(not in sand nor red,
but in heart and head)
flutters, like vine
or leaf in breeze.
As a restive boat,
it may bob and float.
But we forget with ease.

         *

So can looks ****?
Not only as man
(but that, too),
I assure you
they sure can.
They may; they will.