In a cramped gov't office
let our affair begin.
I shall publish my passion
on an illegal press in the basement
of an abandoned apartment complex
run by a nice foreign couple.
They had to flee
one step ahead of an inflamed mob,
but who now tend window boxes
and play cello duets.
Undress for me
like a chrysalis.
Speak to me
through a paper cup
and down a long string to my heart.
When they come for us--
having already disposed of the foreign couple--
we will sing,
our song enhanced by the ropes
around our throats,
Our dignity flying proudly
like a banner
or a prayer flag
or a balloon man at a car dealer
Until we kiss,
infuriating our tormentors
and are made to dig our own graves beforehand
with love trinkets,
and our bare hands
as if making love or committing homicide.