I also knew another man.
He was an oceanographer, but I never
saw him go down to the shore. He said I was
sweet and thet the eyes of the deep-sea fishes blacken
when they are about to make love, thus he won my heart.
He flew through the air to foreign lands and peoples.
I sat in a wicker chair, creaking.
He said no one would take pity on him,
except me. When he came home he told stories
and we had fun. In my dreams he looked
like a stork. Oh that man. He belonged to the
great Storytellers, he told stories so well
that he believed every single word.