Like ghosts of the past
We see right through you
Black, white, and silver beetles
Crawl all over the page
A thousand kinks and crimps in the poor girl's hair
Burst into view on the high rise.
Maddening, it is, really,
Wishing to be with you.
Cat's eyes and cardigans
Hair bands on every head.
To dance with you would make me happy
Across magellanic clouds of purple dust
To the cheap parquet floor of a palais in Muswell Hill
To Shangri-La or even to the nearest village.
For the benefit of others, I never speak of you to them.
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