The poem opens with strange, dreamlike images of closeness: two people dancing on one leg, sharing a single tongue as a meal. Right away, intimacy feels both tender and awkward, as if the couple has to be oddly joined to function at all. The questions that follow, about someone saving a box of rich things or enlarging a horse, seem to float in from nowhere, which adds to the sense of logic slipping.
Then the tone turns almost fairy-tale. Walking on glass stairs suggests that love or "sudden fortune" is exciting but fragile, and one wrong step could break it. The speaker describes how the couple tells pleasant stories about themselves, including a cozy one about finding a flimsy excuse to go to bed. That story sounds polished and a little rehearsed.
The ending undercuts it. The speaker says they want to be here, then admits "I fear I cannot," and the closing parenthesis, "(be here, desire)," shows the wish to be present and to desire fading out. The mood is playful, uneasy, and quietly sad.