Issue 24, Summer-Fall 1960
New face, strange face, for my unrest.
I hunt your look, and lust marks time
Dark in his doubtful uniform,
Preparing once more for the test.
You do not know you are observed:
Apart, contained, you wait on chance,
Or seem to, till your callous glance
Meets mine, as callous and reserved.
And as it does we recognize
That sharing an anticipation
Amounts to a collaboration—
A warm game for a warmer prize.