My {st[even]}

 

i used to believe what i saw was quite wrong

or if not wrong, then donging the dinging

in curious wrong places, where location and

viewpoint quite wronged

my right view, and meant that my clarity

was evil and rued.

 

you used to believe what i saw was quite weird

or if not weird, then ringing the weirds

in estranged reality, where assumption and

prejudice quite shopped

all my grasp of truth, and led me to doubt

all my worth.

 

we used to declaim what we saw was just that:

something we saw but that didn’t mean much more

than the drop of a hat, bowlered or capped,

doffed in respect

or fought quite astonishingly, and requested as

minimum requirements to be.

 

and my minimum requirements are no demand

on the table: i’d rather we broke bread and

shared mutual benefit: i’d rather we debriefed

and evened

my stevened, and looked to the future, and

collaborated wisely towards a life each now needs.

 

and whether we can, and whether we can’t,

depends now entirely on

dialogue not c[k]ant:

no philosophy can resolve the issues we see

and need to exchange and discuss and debate

in no atmosphere of hate, but …

 

… as all along, a question of love – whether

happy or painful or just …

 

… well once lost.

 

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