"Don't think of me;
this moment, blot
out
this voice of mine. These
looks
irresistible to me though you are
avert your gaze from mine.
Consider, instead,
A Memory in Teakwood
Magnolia Wash;
voices ring down a corridor,
rising, and fading,  
fading and rising;
or the spiralling diaphanous mystery of childhood",
I said.

She said, "Ooh,
You don't half talk some ****".