In the garden of life with rats and snakes
and sagging trees of laden fruit
and vines burnt dark and bright for bottling
she pours for him
before the table is stripped
and he pours for her
in the gallery of faces
where murals depicting night and morning
change to windows in the walls
she goes through cave-like halls
up steps half-lit in the sinking city
fountains of liquid silver slicing light
flesh is sexy framed in taxi glass
they are sipping each other's wine
and clear
in daylight the weir
cleansing their minds
setting last night
in a new morning song
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