Of Ashtrays and Honesty
You stepped straight
from a half-shell
and remotely were, you,
the pearl of my eye.
When magazine snapshots
and Hepburn dresses
fell to ashes around you,
I cupped my hands and blushed.
We made eighteen
an intangible,
hopping down from windows
to our tepid rendezvous.
In a Monetian sea
of ashtrays
and honesty
we didn’t dare speak
If we were there now
you would be smiling
and smiling and smiling
at the better words unsaid.
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