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A thousand visits to the supermarket A thousand acts of sexual intimacy Spread over forty years. Your essence was quite other A smile of absolute connection Repeated a thousand times. Your daily visits to the outside lavatory While I stood talking outside, An intimacy I have sought With no other. My greatest fear is that you might Have changed beyond recognition, Submerged in trivia and the Minutiae of the quotidian. At ten my adoration of you was total. At sixty it’s somewhat greater: I place you among the angels and madonnas Of the quattrocento, Raphael and Masaccio And Petrarch’s sonnets to Laura.
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