5

Of a man I met the other night:

Noisy Illinois, the bricklayers bother my sleepy thoughts, tell me more of the men in California, their kisses; the stained glass window of his vision hanging in the flowerpot- I have seen the bowl of orchid petals.

His cheeks are florid in the pettifog of our voices.

I see him often, of the man I met the other night, we have the same everlasting vision of the comet and the furnace; the ornaments he carries sealed within the pictures he has shown me.