When I see a couple of kids



And guess he’s fucking her and she’s



Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,



I know this is paradise







Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives—



Bonds and gestures pushed to one side



Like an outdated combine harvester,



And everyone young going down the long slide







To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if



Anyone looked at me, forty years back,



And thought, That’ll be the life;



No God any more, or sweating in the dark







About hell and that, or having to hide



What you think of the priest. He



And his lot will all go down the long slide



Like free bloody birds. And immediately







Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:



The sun-comprehending glass,



And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows



Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.





