I want to chase the pleasures of the world with you and never leave your side. I want the fires and the fog, the sugar crystals and the split shells. Oh, we could lose our minds and find them again, rebuild ourselves just for the thrill of it, and the shock. I want to awe them, every last one of them. I want them mute and staring, but I’ll only look at you. I want you to have all of my eyes, my heart, the hot beat of my blood, my tongue, the backs of my knees. I want castles in the air, our childhood wishes, every stocking overflowing. I want the countries, all of them: I want to make love in the windows of nameless hotels and fall asleep with you on trains. I want you in the cities, in the heat; we will go mad and speak in tongues that only we know, and I want you calm and blue in a cottage built into a cliff. We don’t have to speak, but we will—pages and stories and poems and songs. We will shout our love from the fire escapes and we will whisper it into each others’ mouths each night. Be mine.