In a cramped gov't office
let our affair begin.
I shall publish my passion
on an illegal press in the basement
of an abandoned apartment complex
run by a nice foreign couple.
They had to flee
one step ahead of an inflamed mob,
but who now tend window boxes
and play cello duets.
Undress for me
like a chrysalis.
Speak to me
through a paper cup
and down a long string to my heart.
When they come for us--
having already disposed of the foreign couple--
we will sing,
our song enhanced by the ropes
around our throats,
Our dignity flying proudly
like a banner
or a prayer flag
or a balloon man at a car dealer
Until we kiss,
infuriating our tormentors
and made to dig our own graves beforehand
with love trinkets,
and our bare hands
as if making love or committing homicide.