With great humanitarian effort, I too put on my heavy coat, ready to step out. But then you kiss me, & we fall, flop, our altruistic gesture dropped, giving way to cuddling, again. It seems tonight that neither of us can embrace more than one Other, no matter how fine it sounds in French. So can’t we just stay in bed, in our coats, pressed against each (singular) Other, & otherwise adhering to Sartre’s l’enfer c’est les autres, till we fall asleep & dream that we went, that our dream-throats drank down an appropriately wild amount of beer, & our dream-hands threw, one stunning fluke round, a
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