Let’s whirl in two-step desire,
A dance that times our lives.
One step to the left, another waltzing
‘Till we are reeling from possibilities
That burst the universe in holes.
With my arm around your waist,
I’ll imagine you still pretty.
Two steps into hindsight
Makes me Henry Kissinger,
The ambassador. 
I am the Queen of Saigon,
All resplendent,
Naked to a fine western breeze.
The images can’t but dazzle us–
But the tune plays on.  Here,
In our suit-lapel paradise
There’s a silvering, not just of always-hair.
Hands wrinkle and tighten,
Wrinkle and tighten, always
Reverting to grasping imagination,
Clear and beautiful.
Remember, they say!
But the times I thought of you
Scatter themselves through wormholes
And choke portals.
The forests of our memories
Bend over to the wind
And lose themselves.