by Rod McKuen
A dozen summers
we lived against the world.
An island on an island.
She'd comfort me with purring
I'd fatten her with smiles.
We grew rich on trust
needing not the beach or butterflies
I had a friend named Ben
Who painted buildings like Roualt men.
He went away.
My laughter tired Lillian
after a time
she found a man who only smiled.
Only Sloopy stayed and stayed.
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