Tourists would photograph
The sky’s long ribs in their eagerness 
     To snatch the whole

                 Passengers will please refrain
            from flushing toilets while the train
         is standing in the station. I love you.

My dear, your lids are weary;
Lower them, rest your eyes—
As though some languid pleasure

                                Early and late‚
                                Though turning grief
  May twist at springing love or halfpast life,

As a young man I was headstrong, willful, rash,
      Determined to amaze,
Grandly indifferent to comfort as to cash,

There in the shrine at Lourdes 
Embellished with old crutches, splints, and canes 
(Freely abandoned by the cured, 

Rounding the bend again, bitten mountain,
arid orange clusters are the same.
Past the cemetery, Julia and I claw

 Pleasing, plump, and completely pig:
Bottom-barreling boys who alternate wholly.
Cocks bursting, all over the bed, bungholes
By tongue and groove, illicit abundance

The town is a whistler
turn on a rock
The water runs a working curve

Glad we met
you
he told the guest