Dancer
To love a dancer in a cold room
with one stuffed mattress and
strewn shoes, pumps, clothes, undergarments
and a high view of the harbor
through skylight water drops,
with silence and the muffle of traffic far below
and to lie there afterwards with your head
against the mattress against the floor against
all the next rooms in all the next buildings
and to feel all the perturbations of all the
adjuncted structures and that all these tiny
rumblings can be mingled and heard with yours,
would be a fine thing.
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