Wouldn't it have been better to refuse
to look askance, or perhaps peruse,
to allow me a little while to think
allow my ice to clink
in my glass a bit longer.
Let all the visions and revisions
pass me by,
let me remember, let me cry
over the currents of our passion
that faded into sweet resignation,
that faded on my icy dream, like a fossil
that never quite
its own reality.
The Blue Danube repeats itself--
a frozen vision.