To Octavio Paz

*Note: for those of you unfamiliar with Paz's poem, "Touch," it will make more sense after reading it here.

When you touched her, then, with her new body
did you lust after her or it?
Holding her in your arms,
sweet sweat and the haze of la petite mort enveloping you,
was it her you held, or some abstraction,
something she wasn't?

Did you like what you saw behind the curtains of her being,
or should you have drawn them tighter and simply enjoyed
the illusion?