What wine? Ah.... Can I just say, before —
No: let’s start again. As we passed through the door
— No, after that, after the meal, I said:
‘Les Goehr furrow wok.’ But really, of course, I meant:
‘Let’s go for a walk.’ Boorishly, I insisted;
You were kind, didn’t complain, said ‘yes’
As if you liked wandering the freezing, pitch-black streets,
The wind whipping open your coat. So we went
Along the Zattere, where Venice meets
The waters in a border of sloshing, cloudy green —
The Giudecca channel. All right, then, I confess:
I was tipsy. But honestly, I didn’t mean
To throw you in by the Dogana: your elevation
Was more a toast, a love-drunk declaration.
No: let’s start again. As we passed through the door
— No, after that, after the meal, I said:
‘Les Goehr furrow wok.’ But really, of course, I meant:
‘Let’s go for a walk.’ Boorishly, I insisted;
You were kind, didn’t complain, said ‘yes’
As if you liked wandering the freezing, pitch-black streets,
The wind whipping open your coat. So we went
Along the Zattere, where Venice meets
The waters in a border of sloshing, cloudy green —
The Giudecca channel. All right, then, I confess:
I was tipsy. But honestly, I didn’t mean
To throw you in by the Dogana: your elevation
Was more a toast, a love-drunk declaration.
(1992)
