With just a coral necklace
As reef between head and heart,
On a mock motorcycle:
A man made of New World gold.

A moon of simple cycles,
Indifferently, he draws a tide.
Six hands -- slack or musical --
Grope his unamazed beauty,

Find his alluvial lips,
Goals scored by one-man teams.
He returns to vacancy,
Sea music, silent orbit.

Above, boys blowing bubbles
That are moons and oceans, too:
Boys and bubbles, gently jumbled,
Drift toward invisibility.