Yesterday, through my translucent looking glass I watched, from the deepest recesses of my desire A girl, who in a Brooklyn bath Washed her radiance in the hydrant's fire I lit my last cigarette Leaned against the concrete sill And began to palm a beat till The rhythm matched my swirling breath The blue smoke ringed and broke Into ghostly frowns and grins, Hazing the air. Children swinging rope Encircled her image in soundless spins I maintained. The idyll scene's a glist Or summer glaze, and in her dripping mascaraed Eyes I slipped into the dream of kiss— The painting of paradise.