i saw the most beautiful sight tonight.

it wasn't subtle, but something within it was—

in the eyes, the eyes tell the story, don't they;

or, the little wrinkles around the eyes,

they don't lie. do they? oh, we're all seeing things

that aren't there these days, imagining

what we want to imagine; or, at least

those of us prone to imaginative . . . imaginings.

is that word? anyway, i saw you in it,

part of it, maybe all of it. if i could be more specific

i would. or, i wouldn't. i'd probably keep it

to myself, plant it, water it, admire it, pretend with it.

if you weren't so bloody even-keeled

i'd tell you, i'd like to rock your boat, just once.