I’m better when you do not
imagine me an honorable man.
You, with your breeding,
alpine beauty, and pluck, are
symphonically designed, and I
nothing better than a rat.
Today, you’ve dressed in assortments:
flashbulb smiles, bluest silks, and
embroidered Lotus flowers.
Yesterday, in Reykjavik, the wind
put pink in your porcelain features.
Tomorrow, you’ll forget me.