It was a face which darkness could kill
                      in an instant
a face as easily hurt
       by laughter or light
'We think differently at night.'
                        she told me once
lying back languidly
            And she would quote Cocteau
'I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say
                          'whom I am constantly shocking'
Then she would smile and look away
           light a cigarette for me
                     sigh and rise
and stretch
        her sweet anatomy
          let fall a stocking
Lawrence Ferlinghetti, "#8" (1955)