But his knives have been blued by the bitterness.
He studies puddings diligently;
Impishly he sneaks down
To search for the raspberry that someone has stolen.
He reflects upon the light that passes
Along the platform goodbyes stroll in pairs.

She had on a green nylon uniform
But the evening's discussion of eggs filters softly
Through the closed screen of his lids -
Later, to mingle with the wine.
He thinks that men in striped aprons
Fill their hats with their heads.
He drives his hands into the heavy mixture.
Conspiratorially, the raspberry explodes.

Holding them up for all to see
...