At the coffee shop you love,

在你喜欢的咖啡店里

white mugs heavy on the table

白色的马克杯沉甸甸地

between us, young baristas—

放在桌子上，横在我们中间，

spiky haired and impatient—

年轻的侍者——留着扎人的短发

cannot imagine how two people

没法想象两个这么老的人，

so old to them can feel so wanton,

会感到如此欲火中烧，

coffee growing cold between us,

咖啡在我们中间变冷，

middle-aged bodies growing hot

而我们中年的身体在彼此的注视下

under the other’s gaze. Even now,

变得火热。即使现在你不在身边，

apart, you send me songs so I may

你给我发来歌曲，让萨克斯管的金嗓子，

listen to love from the golden throat

钢琴的击键穿过我变软的腹部，

of a saxophone, piano keys playing

让我感受到爱。

jazz across my soft belly.

为什么那恐惧的潮汐

How is it the tide of terror

在我身体里停止上涨？

has quit rising in me, or rises

或许它在像海水一样涨落，

and recedes as tides do, bringing

带来因为时间变得光滑可爱的玻璃，同时带来垃圾——

sea glass worked smooth

塑料网和破球鞋——

and lovely by the sheer fact

我们会装在垃圾袋里扔掉的东西，

of time, bringing trash—

带来潮水磨人的舌头

plastic mesh and old sneakers—

舔着我们的脚趾，当我们

useless things now we might

手拉手走在它的边缘——

bag up and remove, bringing

小心地，欣喜地，我和你。

a lapping tongue of water up

over our toes as we hold hands

and walk along its edge—

carefully, gleefully, both.