I am stuck in traffic in a taxicab
which is typical
and not just of modern life

Dante
I could guide you into depravity but I’m not sure I could
lead either of us back out.

You walk into a theatre in the semi-dark
a tiny stage holding up a candle
a few actors are pacing from shadow to shadow

Oh Barbara! do you think
they’ll ever name anything after us like
rue Henri-Barbusse or

A cunning oracle withholds the best.
The tax on prophecy is not to tell
the founder of a city how his sister

In the shadow
of the mountain
quarters click 

You can hear me walking
from your bed, where the blankets
aren’t enough to keep you warm.

Our ménage à trois by candlelight—;
the various absurdities: black lace,
pink mules, a little-bo-peep teddy.