Letter to Andrew (1)
I wrote it to our short lasting love,
a hunt in the wild,
but the tang of vermouth stayed
and all men (lips, skin) will taste the same
for years after...
You still remember my taste, you said...
So many other encounters-before and after-
are gone, forgotten
but you -
Lovec, they call you in your mother tongue,
your traps built with the patience and care
of a master.
A silly mistake only:
One shall never hunt his own.
(1) to an old flame
this was my first bigger than life , 'till I die and after, love story...and all about eros the bittersweet.