(After Catullus #5)
Claudia, let us live
and love, and not give
one red fuck for the wrinkled talk
of men. Suns will rise and set again
long after our little lights
go down to solid darkness.
So, kiss me, Claudia -- hundreds,
thousands, hundreds -- give me kisses:
Let's kiss till we lose count.
Let us confound our judges.
