Ode to love:

I wish you had taken that job singing of thingness. You there? 
All financial doubts are overcome.
Even so, if you could eat only one food for life, what sad unrest would you take up? “Take notes,” you recalled. You were holding back first throbs as we forced extra fonts from your abdomen. Then our fears increased. Mist in pockets.   

I miss the walled city where an operator like him looks up when you arrive at this next step. . . 

  Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down. The place is improper.
We’ll take the stairs; the elevators refuse to go with asterisks in them, friends of friends.  

(Ok, you there? Bye.)