En masque, on point, sans epée, I'll fresco
storm windows 'til they're opaque with safety.
These mixers always end with Codrescu
on the floor. Oh dear! Don't look! Lately
contra-tempts has been my new theme, my dream
of painting couleur de l'eau over costume,
going as my self, unmasked I mean. Damn!
I still ballerine in the mirror. Damn,
the rain is beating to get in; my piste
is nearly out-pastiched. My beauty,
my outlaw, I'd recognize you anywhere.
Mon dame, stay dry, stay inside. My duty
compels me to admit I'm rather pissed.
En garde! now strip, you tawdry paramour!