Looking at a Girl I Love in the Dark while Attending a Slide Presentation on Rajasthan, India, and, in my Left Hand, Holding an Old Book of Poetry in an Evening Anthropology Class

She watches the light of landscapes and people. She loves them, too, not to say them, as people other than ourselves and her eyes are turned away, while I sit and dream of how the dark and love I dream is like my sighing the smile I hide while she doesn’t mind she watches something else now, she would only laugh and smile like what the ending of the talk will say with the lights going on, and still I won’t need to worry how she will see me anyway.

March 1972