“You Can Leave”
You can leave … the keys on the table, lady, and reconnoitre this:
Admit it; you’re not all that happy. You’ll not
Be satisfied with second best, some sweet nothing caught
Within the weave of yesterday’s innocuous public lazzis
And travesties a cut above the woven wisdoms of the Grey-Eyed Goddess.
She may serve both. So why’d you want to go and do a thing like that?
Did you really hope for more? Think a while; splice the fat
Honed from all these bones, and what remains? Take another guess,
And pull a press conference, another holy bolo punch; the problem’s not
Some newfound strength in fashion or the passion of decision to look alive;
You’ll take up arms to win the gold, perhaps, you’ll join the queue of fantasies, in diatribes and patent bold-faced lies.
The problem’s not with you but what’s not written on the page; within this cage,
that specious minuend within the cave wherein you may well marinate and rot.
We’re on a Ferris wheel together for the duration till the long hot winter’s thaw;
So, give the subtrahend another turn, short your losses and call the bout a draw.