It's not the first time

we've bitten into a peach.

But now at the same time

it splits--half for each.

Our "then" is inside its "now,"

its halved pit unfleshed--



what was refreshed.

Two happinesses unfold

from one joy, folioed.

In a hotel room

our moment lies

with its ode inside,

a red tinge,

with a hinge.