PAVLOVIA (BEGUINE) It was spring in Pavlovia-a-a, I was lost, in a maze . . . Lysol breezes perfumed the air, I’d been searching for days. I found you, in a cul-de-sac, As bewildered as I— We touched noses, and suddenly My heart learned how to fly! So, together, we found our way, Shared a pellet, or two . . . Like an evening in some café, Wanting nothing, but you . . . Autumn’s come, to Pavlovia-a-a, Once again, I’m alone— Finding sorrow by millivolts, Back to neurons and bone. And I think of our moments then, Never knowing your name— Nothing’s left in Pavlovia, But the maze, and the
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