Too naked to be true
Nothing to deny.
A little necking. No tenderness. No mansuetude
(to counterpoise the necking)
- I’m not quite a man. – No, you are not.
Not implying: impish.
Not denoting many other aspects.
Looking for an aspic under the trees
I could be luckier
than prying in the search for the truth in an instant of truce
amidst of worshipping practices and prayers.
You admired my sense of humor
I work hard to keep it; it doesn’t stick by itself like mire
like a humid air
like your damp hair
like a sticker “comrade, we miss you”
What about your capacity for mirth?