You said you’d take me to the mountains--
(there we’d play hide-and-seek in caves and grottos) --
In stead of easy swims in the blue ocean
In the strange land where watermelon is the bloody staple
Smearing the mouths and lips raw-red at every meal
But, honey, what more ordeals are needed
After bruising, grazing climbs of steep you
For the proof of my hanging tenacity?
Haven’t we mastered yet the art of spelunking,
Like children let loose in the mansion of a thousand doors,
Delicately moving our spread palms and rooting fingers over each other?
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