If the sheets were skins ....
and my body,
were those bodies,
I would haunt the bed, .......
looking, surprising, celebrating. ....

If those eyes that I know, ....
they would settle down here, ....
and they looked at me lying ...
seeing my being
 
If the breeze were your breath .....

I would not hear my breathing, ....
nor the crackle of the springs, ...
nor the music
ot the  dogs.


If someone else ... not anyone.

This book by my side would rest with the others .....
I would not be looking north ...
nor looking .....

 
I would not notice the time, ....
I would not notice the ****** of the Lenga .....
surely it would not open the windows ...
I would not be sitting or standing ...
he would not look at my hands.

 
If the heat I feel was not mine alone.
If the laughs.
and the bodies.
and the skins.
 
If you were here
the breeze would be your breath.