i.

She smelled warm at first, in a green leather jacket
In a gallery of the Royal Academy, bodies pressed
To such proximity, yet Chagall's laughing figures
Gracefully eluded tension, and eyes were free to meet
Some women were speaking Polish in fur coats
A couple intellectuals analyzed the religious content
In scraggly beards and glasses over fags
The lovers embraced in a massive, shimmering rosebush
She was an art student
We chatted about this and that,
Her hair pulled back
She was wearing black pants, some kind of heels
And that green jacket
We wandered over to Wardour St.
And some baklava in a place run by Poles (more Poles,
Well?) that played Greek music from a funkbox
London was so rich that day
Or parts of it were
I did a lot in a short time

ii.

Grace was kicking around Middleton Hall
Looking like she had nothing to do
So I invited her in
She sat on a chair and then
She sat on my lap
She looked like she hadn't been taking care
Of herself (or someone had been neglecting her)
But she was very sweet (though distant)
In the morning, she stood by the door
We said goodbye, and I let her out
I was glad we shared that night
Together, it was very tender
I see her around occasionally
and she comes up and touches me
Whoever it was had brains
who named her Grace