Unless you ask

I will always make you go

before the birds invoke the dawn,

leave our scent on the crumpled

sheets to the cat. Still I confess

there are no sweeter lips than yours.

Though it is somewhat embarrassing,

among poets I love Aristophanes best.

My dreams are filled with

twittering cherubs and clouds alive with

adolescent birds drunk on adventure.

Unless you wake me to the sounds of

Coltrane, the taste of espresso,

the pungent scent of herbs

I will always make you go before

the lark greets the sun.

Art by Michael Lipke ( 1953)