Even in the darkness, the white teeth of the hill continue to smile
Ivy crawls up a pale house, wrapping around the words repeated with purpose, captured, then abandoned
Men who died a thousand different deaths flit between the lights of a cerulean pool,
Their lovers and wives and mistresses arrange themselves on iron deck chairs, one leg bent, lips curled up at some sweet secret-
How lovely they are behind cat-eyed glasses, calling out for their darlings with a velveteen song.

It is good to live here, in the eternal summer of one's heart, where moments are dispersed pre-wrapped in the golden threads of a beloved memory.
I dangle my legs in the water and try not to fear having little left to want, for every breath of wind is a delight, and every fruit tastes of innocence, and the sun shines for he and I alone.
We sit side by side in a warm silence, and the white teeth of the hill above us continue to smile.