The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Even without wars, life is dangerous.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

It would be pleasant to be drunk.

Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.

I suffer for birds and fireflies but not frogs, she said, and threw him across the room. Kaboom! Like a genie out of a samovar, a handsome prince arose in the corner of the bedroom.

Yet love enters my blood like an I.V., dripping in its little white moments.