Along the Lost Cost Quay
the cargo ships are almost drowning
while we party

in Oslo and Ghent, you dance
sparks from the floor, you dance
the delicate velvet petals

up, let them float
and return to the flower
Your shirt falls open

just enough to wish
for more, for no reason
just to experience

the lovely wonder of feeling
what I feel, myself, as if
your beauty is ******* me