No man can give me any word but Wait ...
My last defense / Is the present tense.
There can be no whiter whiteness than this one: An insurance man's shirt on its morning run.
at a certain moment in social proceedings, I am on FIRE to leave: I have a leaving-FIT.
... sometimes you have to deal / Devilishly with drowning men in order to swim them to shore.
Exhaust the little moment / Soon it dies.
Words can do wonderful things. They pound, purr. They can urge, they can wheedle, whip, whine. They can sing, sass, singe. They can churn, check, channelize. They can be a "Hup two three four." They can forge a fiery army of a hundred languid men.
She was learning to love moments. To love moments for themselves.
When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water.