To him, the city is a bustling empire Of which, at night, she becomes the umpire Rather than believing she acted out on her dreams His heart on his sleeve, concealed in fine blue seams.
She knocked on her door. He appears in the frame His scent intoxicating, she greets him politely In his tight embrace, she is no longer the same Stepping into a world where he is hers truly.
She seeks his eyes, he claims her mouth Above them dangles a lantern and a moth That can’t take its eyes off them yet struggles In its bulky body, that their laughter can’t muffle.
Trapped in their desire they undergo the wave Spindrifts of two bright souls that love attempts to save The moth can’t take the heat of their burning hearths Language traces the unfathomable story of their hearts.
Through speech and touch they exchange many an innuendo They shape the shadows of the city with a fingertip Sisyphus is the idol they both seem to worship When they part, for they must, they mutter: “A presto!”