Number 8 - a poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
It was a face which darkness could kill
in an instant
a face as easily hurtby laughter or light
'We think differently at night'
she told me once
lying back languidly
And she would quote Cocteau'
I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say'
whom I am constantly shocking'
Then she would smile and look away
light a cigarette for mesigh and rise
her sweet anatomy
let fall a stocking