Figs and pigs on mobil overhead,
A Matisse print faces from the wall,
We dine in splendid sanctuary
In your cozy 10th St. walkup.
Too much we trusted youth's passion--
Too few those civilized hours--
Dancing all night to jukebox songs,
Our sweating bodies one molten movement;
Exhausted, we dream the dream of kings
And think the whole realm ours to name.