In due light the graces of charms,
to delight, dance, dine and enchant—by river boat, yacht and dream, evermore
chasing doves and butterflies; so shallow his ethos in dire structure,
so neat her ethos in packaged formula; both would desire finer breezes,
detached from essence, chiseled by status, arts, and the anti-individual.
They might glance in direction, dispel an inclination,
and rethink circumstance.
Curiosity is human; to sing inside, to paint petals,
most warmed by projection.
They will ignore each other—filled with
flirtation—baffled by rhythm and renaissance. So much to be, so great a coquet,
so neat the credibility. Finally, sin would be adverted, rosy eyes would stray,
not of culture, not of acrobatics; a man to his status, a woman in likewise, most
charmed to have identity.
