You’re naked so I know you’re not a she.
Although I must suppose I am the agency
through whom apparently you’ve come
so I can see whatever you’ve arrived to let
me view, I know you aren’t me and I suspect
that I’m not you. But I wouldn’t mind it
if I were. If I were you, I’d cause a stir.
I’d rather like to cause a stir.
I’d even like to have your ears. I bet each hears
a lot more than mine can. You seem a lusty man.
And you dance! I haven’t any rhythm. Oh dear.
Perhaps that marks a schism that will lead you
to despair of me, and to depart.
Please don’t depart.
I know I say I don’t like Art, and you are Art,
but I like you. Can you tell? Might you
be able to like me as well?
Is your name Art? My name is Guy.
What did you say? Ah.