The Lovers

They have found each other.

The way they strut by one behind the other,

You know they are proud.

The slender one, blond and sculpted,

Is touchy like a thoroughbred.

In the Second Cup they do not speak.

The aqualine one cannot see

Very far without his glasses.

His brown hair curls. He sweats.

The smooth skin of the other glistens

As he leans back, cradling his one knee, his legs spread.