Whether you love me or not let me talk with you a while. I think I could be satisfied with a word, a look, but I’m not sure. Let’s walk through the field. The grass is still brown from the dry summer, and the cold winter rains are coming on. Don’t keep me in suspense. I am burned out, wanting you, and you don’t seem to care. But I want to insist only on the relation. If you love me, I am sure it will be warm enough, but if you don’t, it won’t matter. Nothing will.
5, 15 November 1975