he wears a hat and a moustache
and has been to places and through things
in his mind.
he looks straight ahead,
but diffusely so
and keeps things to himself.
she, wearing red — velvet or silk, one cannot tell —
has put up her hair for the night.
she knows about the poise she’s got,
but has moved on from its allure
for it’s caused things
some folks could not handle so well;
she’s on to deeper mysteries these days.
they lean onto each other,
as if they were the only ones in this place.
but they do so from separate canvases,
ready to leap
as we speak.