6 February 1966
Sembach, Germany
Like the stars have no home
neither us
do we have a place to lay our heads
together
down upon the same bed or pillow...
no roof
but sky to close us out.
I wonder -- ask:
"Where do lovers go?"
Where can they
to be alone...
to sip and share the wine
that flows anew within them?
As though never could their lips
squeeze same the taste
from but a single grape:
savoring over and over
the never-ending sweetness
... no last of the wine.