58
You think yourself a woman,
because you have children and lovers;
but in a street
with only Orion and the Pleiades to see us,
you begin to sing, you begin to skip.

59
All day the pavement has been black
with rain, but in our warm brightly-lit
room, Praise God,
I kept saying to myself,
and saying not a word,
Amen, you answered.

60
Though our thoughts often, we ourselves
are seldom together. 
We have told each other
all that has happened; it seems to me—
for want of a better word—that we are both unlucky.
Even our meetings have been so brief
we should call them partings, and of our words
I remember most “good-by.”