“I hunt for a sign of you in all the others, in the rapid undulant river of women, braids, shyly sinking eyes, light step that slides, sailing through the foam. Suddenly I think I can make out your nails oblong, quick, nieces of a cherry, then it’s your hair that passes by, and I think I see your image, a bonfire, burning in the water. I searched but no one else had your rhythms, your light, the shady day you brought from the forest, nobody had your tiny ears. You are whole, exact, and everything you are is one, and so I go along, with you I float along, loving a wide Mississippi toward a feminine sea.”
The Juice Bar 