Whatcha sayin', now?

A translation:
Your mind and you are our weed Sea,
Tides have swept about you for score years
And ideas, old gossip, odd assortments of all things,
Strange knowledge of dimmed
Great minds have sought you—lacking someone
else

You have been second, and yet, always, for me

For all this deciduous seaboard of parts
Strange woods half sodden, and new brighter stuff:
In the slow float of differing light and deep sleep...

there is, was, in whole and all,
no. No nevermind.
This is but you. And penny sails project me,

until the dawn

It's actually Ezra. We're playing a game he and I . He depicts a sterile canvas and I project my tortured words around his wiremesh frames that hold up so well. She may question the changes, but I wish she'd remember that I only get dressed in the morning because of her.
" a casual liason with more cultured lovers, leaving the lady without a sense of fulfillment"
Like me, come home to find everything where it was and a note left lying on the table saying 'Gone out.'. And, 'Further'
And here we are,
now.