What I know for sure is less and less:
that a hot bath won't cure loneliness.
That bacon is the best bad thing to chew
and what you love may kill you.
The odd connection between perfection
and foolishness, like the pelican
diving for his fish.
How silly sex is.
How, having it, we glimpse
What I know is less and less.
What I want is more and more:
you against me—
your ferocious tenderness—
love like a star,
once small and far,
now huge, now near.