Down sandstone steps to the jetty; always
the same water, lights scattered across the tide.
Remember we say, the first time.
Our eyes locked into endless permission;

this dark gift; why can’t I let go
and be the man in your life, not the one who writes
your name down for the dedication page;
whatever the name, you know who I write for;

you know how private, how utterly selfish
the muses are – This is your image,
crafted in the long hours away from you.
The house rocks, money comes and goes, fish