Holding a varnished paper parasol, br the gardener-a shy man-off-the-street- br ripple-rakes the white sand, despite rainfall, br into a pattern effortlessly neat, br meant to suggest, only abstractly, the sea, br as eight weathered stones are meant to depict br Buddha and the hungry cubs he knows he br must sacrifice to feed. I sit br in a little red gazebo and think- br ast he Zen monks do-about what love means, br unashamed to have known it as something br tawdry and elusive from watching lean br erotic dancers in one of the dives br on Stark Street, where I go some lovesick nights. br br Even in costume they look underage, br despite hard physiques and frozen glances br perfected for the ugly, floodlit stage, br where they are stranded like fish. What enhances br their act is that we're an obedient crowd, br rheumy with liquor; our stinginess br is broken. When one slings his leg proudly br across the bar rail where I sit, I kiss br a five dollar bill and tuck it in his belt. br He's a black swan straining its elatic br neck to eat bread crumbs and nourish itself. br My heart is not alert; I am transfixed, br loving him as tiger cubs love their br mother who abandons them forever.