Here’s a vagabond prince with something to prove,
And a clueless nymph with nothing to lose.
She savors him in clandestine glances
And he is deaf to the explosions;
To the brilliant cacophony 
That erupts from inside the glass walls
Encasing her heart.
At dusk, they sway like patio furniture,
Livers wailing,
Still, they’re sailing
Into the whorls of each other’s finger prints—
Lost in a sweet satisfaction
They never shook hands with before.