there is no goal in sight.
I am tired of striving:
I don't want to be seduced.
I have seen the pretty ones
come and go, I have sung
my songs for them, I have
built them little cabins of color.
All have gone to the tides
of eight or nine planets,
all have gone swimming
in the gravities of those
stark and foreign worlds.
I don't want to fall into
the dream of your dark hair,
I don't want to fall into
the dream of your compact
and delicious little body.
But a beautiful woman
is a gift from God:
I don't want to look away.
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