Some madness must be taking me,
because I’m feeling good:
I’ve moved beyond the “why” and “if”
and gone to “how” and “should.”
Guilt recedes, and different breeds
of feelings now abound:
it’s love, it’s lust, passion or bust
in touch, in sight, in sound.
We trade our dreams through heated scenes
of negligee and verse;
we cannot say upon what day
things grow better or worse.
Reinvent music, clothes, morals, prose,
and know we risk disaster;
somehow it seems the very thing
we both are pining after.