In the winter, we will leave in a small pink railway carriage
With blue cushions. We will be comfortable.
A nest of mad kisses lies In each soft corner.
You will close your eyes, in order not to see, through the glass,
The evening shadows making faces.
Those snarling monstrosities, a populace
Of black demons and black wolves.
Then you will feel your cheek scratched…
A little kiss, like a mad spider, Will run around your neck…
And you will say to me: ‘Get it!’ as you bend your neck -
And we will take a long time to find that creature -
Which travels a great deal…
(submitted by edgarwhitmanwilde)