Elegy for a Love Toy

I saw you with the beautiful brown hair, russet streaked a scarlet dawn
Of faded gold, unsure and unaware, the rolling folds
Of your fading jeans were dragging on a walk: how
I longed to talk, to spew in bold strokes those words like an autumn twilight: "I love you"
Would we have whispered on casual Venised streets, while a tower
Pokes in the distance through the twin framing hills of below, wrapped
In round stone and the distant rap
Of the beating drums (some errant bum)? Even birds would hum in our sunset quiet
And the air would smell of buttered cakes and the old men taste their kegs
Of cafe'd ale (he's watching the legs of beautiful Meg, the American
Girl in the streets with the dazzling ring, wrung round the next of her pinky,
Gleaming a delicate flash while her bust
Excites another gleam, a heated flush of desire
In an otherwise cracked, worn and wearing marbled...) but we'd taste lips:
Yours soft, round, pale but browned
With a sip of cocoa, merging with your browning, day-drenched skin, my hand
Harvesting tips of golden grain through your darkening hair, other
One wrapped round ecstasy of chiseled space, and in the darkness moonlight streams
Like only cream that skims the void of a remembered face.