It was late, and getting later. The sky was white
and the earth was white, but such subtle shades
that the horizon was impossible to find,
and who cares about the boundary? about
the magical place where the sea meets
the shore, or the roof meets the house?
I care only about where my head meets
your shoulder, and where my hand meets
your chest, where the sheets the meet
our bodies, and our heads meet the pillows.