Without being yanked through fog,
a gentle match was lit
making the tête à tête a grand quiet
Do you ever trill with the windswept sea,
she wondered, but he was already
on his third puffing thought-
one where whales could swallow direction
making the whole earth a tureen.
No, he thought but never got to say,
I don’t sing in shallow waters
but I do like your lips by lamplight.
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