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Too much loving, too much poetry

Has consumed my days. We don’t want to be free.

We want to be trapped by love. We want to hear poetry by the sea.

But today I do want to be free,

I want one ordinary morning in a café,

The boredom of those who work here. “A large coffee,” is all I say.

The customers are older couples, softly talking. Of course poems are insane,

I always knew that, and songs,

Like films, exist because of adultery; the poetry of sexual wrongs

I’m deeply sick of; the sensitive singer strumming the guitar

On in the café, please stay in the background. I know who you are.

Silent nature: cliffs and hills, the military, stoic pursuits

Will not save me, because I will think of love in the silences.

A second cup of coffee is about all I can do.

I need to take a walk.  And think about you.

I really don’t know what to do. Maybe I’ll buy a suit,

A good fitting suit; I’ll get a good haircut, very subtle cologne,

And then maybe I’ll run into you, and you will be alone.




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