You stood in your garden, unashamed

Amid the tapestry and linen

You were framed by red neon

In the falling light of dusk

Offering the apple of your skin

I stood thunderstruck

On cobblestones of ancient ways

And the sirens in the distance

Sang out a different melody

From the one you sang to me

Your eyes did not meet mine

As you waited across that great divide

Between wisdom and a fool

For the hunger of the ages to ignite

That you never satisfy, only inflame

Vic Lortz, 1984