What am I to do when I see big eyes,
beautiful and round,
reminding me of some strange addiction I had
     in another life--maybe without poems?

The shape of her face looked like the skull
from an ancient alien tribe, old and lost.

But still, in the warm a.m., it made me
     think of how great it is
     to live.

The night disposed of--
     there is nothing to do
but think.