Sweet lips
You surprise me so.
Drenching thirst
Of liquid fire,
Paling savor;
How ironic you are!
Cooling brew of
Curled ashes
Stocked in my cupboard,
Tinned in foil
Twice round:
Donít you like it there?
Or would you rather
My lonely soul
And longing eyes?
They see you
They feel you
Flavors of remorse,
And ecstasy
Blending to completion
Once mingled.
Give me sight again
And again.

rjw, 7/5/87

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