For the seasons, and Mr. Vonnegut.

   Where's your shame, love?
Pardon the expression
I left on
   And again I'll
Watch the moon slip through
The reflecting pond

   Color in this nostalgia
With the asocial mistress wind
Who looks down at her work and says,
"it may be selfish, but i think you'll live."

   Aquilla strolled in,
Silently, and held
Her breath with the stars
   She said, almost sideways,
As she was baptized
In the dark,

   "the mystery itself diminishes in
a year or a year or so" until 
She slept in redundant pretext:
"blue and ivory. so it goes"

   Don't be ashamed, love
Make an excuse because
The earth might tilt
    And maybe again I'll
Watch the moon soak
If the accident will

   I was treading a still life when your
Shivered slur sank in the dawn
Sometimes we have to suffer
To see the beauty
In this awe