They were sitting on the thin mattress
He’d once rolled & carried up the four floors
To his room only to find it covered nearly all
Of the bare wood
Leaving just a small path alongside the wall
& between them was the sack
Of oranges & pears she’d brought its neck
Turned back to expose the colors of the fruit
& as she opened a bottle of wine
He reached over to a tall stack of books
& pulled out The Tao & with a silly flourish
Handed it across the bed to her she looked up
& simply poured the two squat water glasses
Half-full with wine & then she
Took the book reading silently not aloud
As he’d assumed & suddenly he felt clearly
She knew the way
Two people must come upon such an understanding
Together of course but separately
As the moon & the wave remain individually one
