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.