When we kissed on the docks and the various sea-birds were singing
The vapors rose up from the bay with the silver air ringing.
In the still wind, our cheeks touched in a lingering instance
With the blue of the ice rising up in the thickening distance.

When the moist wind sighed
With the lane-lines streaming
And our hands held.
When the cars cried
In the pale, green gleaming
As the night fell.

In the room with the sheets and the lengths of our limbs intertwining,
The red of the dim and the flush of your face were combining.
In a sleep spin, when the wind in the window was creaking,
We reached with the whole of our hands and our fingers were speaking.

With the wind in your face
And the sky in your glasses
And the skin on your hand.
By the white waves
And the rushing razor grasses
On the cool sand.

Last night I drank wine and I watched the sky set into violet.
The candlelight crept through the air and the trees became silent.
I saw stars tumble down and connect to the glowing, blue blossoms
With a picture of you welling up from the watery macrocosm.