Suddenly friendship and biz,
together in package,
seem attractive enough by themselves.
Only, really I want more: I don’t
want to end days, consumed by the thoughts
of what might have been.
So if this is all you can offer,
let me tell you I treasure your person for always –
and yet, simultaneously, see and say and think
the love I madly feel for you must
sink my desires away, from this being towards
one woman who wishes to be my love:
one woman out there or other.
And one other there and out.
And one there out and other.
For I did fall that crazily in love with
your person, and the idea you gave me of what
you might be.
And I did fall quite truly, and even
now give up all – but no longer
sacrificial-like (as if Facebook-torn).
So if we can work in friendship
and biz, let biz and friendship triumph where
love would’ve been mad.
And then I shall know that some
other place and some other person is the future
I must search.
As if Googling my future was
the future I held in the palm of my sex and the
hope of my mind.
And yes, as previously unconscious
aut[h]o[r]-ethnographer, as such practitioner I might say I am,
I have hurt the memories that others held dear.
But those memories also served
to contain my real self in bonds of cruel
limitings and strappings of scenes
some replayed and replayed to
service their souls and their hearts and their
cruelties, unthought – and untold
(though not to my perceptions!), and then those
gold sentiments and desires for a future where
love itself was my fate.
For always far too late to the
playing-field of youth has the old man inside
me approached those around.
So now I do wish to recover my being
and live with this woman who has courted my
role and has shaped my whole completely, and
has still – even – to offer her beautiful hole to the
man I now must surely become: I now must surely
resound: I now must surely – finally – complete: tested
and street-wisely strong as a bough of the
bravely genuflecting lover who de-
clares his final bet.
So if nothing is to be, it is your
choice not mine. And if friendship is on the
table, it is your choice and mine.
And if friendship and biz can inter-
wine and dine their selves in pleasurable places
of grandiloquent measure, then the
choice will most certainly pleasure us both in
evenings of eyes and chin-chins finely struck.
But if by any chance, you
wanted far more than that, just remember
I will always passionfully love
you, at the altar not of service, nor
peculiar bat, but – rather – far
more wildly the reality that no whys, nor
wise, nor ways, nor raise nor rise
nor sighs need any more be asked,
when simply I find it easy to contemplate
I love you