Matted, the hair

in string  form  slides its

wetness down my back

and shivering

I turn aside

the stranger there,

but it is

my own reflection.


now has wine

turned me happy -

Scarlet minus red, the

sun too

has laughed

with me.


no, the long lapses


were spilled

out by one

who laid his head

upon my


for him my

smile begins.


April 21, 1960





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