In London, at a cool summer night ...

In London, at a cool summer night, I woke up to write

I would walk on the street naked, and think of your wanting me...

You said, don't get naked, it's cold there

The Atlantic is between us

I wonder if lust is like the summer haze

Fading away, but still

I see you sit on a bench at Parnassus

I hear you talk inside Moffitt

I feel you touch my body with your mind

I never dreamed of you

Instead I woke up and wrote to you