How to say the simplest thing. Clearly. What might happen in the shade of forest. Nude. Or night. What if you did touch me, exaggerating my sadness. Dark side of foliage. You cannot look at my face, the place it will take you. The rain coming down on our mountainous drive. Or distant. I want you to be there, waiting, but not knowing why. Or what you are wearing. With you, the most dangerous ride. A backdrop dies to be created. (maybe stairs, their angular slope, their ability to hold us and bring us up. . .down.) I can’t give you any hope. We are both steeping in that water, and despite its sting, we swim and swim.