E. E. Cummings

You Asked Me to Come:It Was Raining a Little

you asked me to come:it was raining a little,
and the spring;a clumsy brightness of air
wonderfully stumbled above the square,
little amorous-tadpole people wiggled
 
battered by stuttering pearl,
                                leaves jiggled
to the jigging fragrance of newness
—and then.  My crazy fingers liked your dress
….your kiss,your kiss was a distinct brittle
 
flower,and the flesh crisp set
my love-tooth on edge.  So until light
each having each we promised to forget—
 
wherefore is there nothing left to guess:
the cheap intelligent thighs,the electric trite
thighs;the hair stupidly priceless.
Other works by E. E. Cummings...



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