sitting at the cliff's edge, I muse that here is where I used to come with lovers when lovers there were and we could imagine ourselves alone in wilderness when wilderness was scarce and the world was full and alone we'd be together and together the world would fade and all that would be was the two of us and the rocks and the sea and windy gusts clinging us each tighter to the other and now the rocks and sea and windy gusts remain while people a dream become and sterile I, or close enough the last alive, or close enough peer over the edge, or close enough and long for city traffic.