to make love to each other in peace:
everyone pries under your sheets,
everyone interferes with your loving.
They say terrible things
about a man and a woman
who after much milling about,
all sorts of compunctions,
do something unique—
they both lie with each other in one bed.
I ask myself whether frogs
are so furtive,
or sneeze as they please,
whether they whisper to each other in
swamps about illegitimate frogs
or the joys of amphibious living.
I ask myself if birds
single out enemy birds
or bulls gossip with bullocks before
they go out in public with cows.
Even the roads have eyes,
and the parks their police,
hotels spy on their guests,
windows name names,
cannons and squadrons debark
on missions to liquidate love—
all those ears and those jaws
working incessantly,
till a man and his girl
have to raise their climax
full tilt on a bicycle.
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