Working out what to hold onto / Working out what to let go

And what I’d love to be true

Is you and is me:

Something together still to be formed.

But whilst real for my side,

And it always has been so,

Ever since I 

Did meet you and 

Did hear you and

Did near you;

And whilst really it’s quite wild,

I do get the impression for you they weren’t ever 

More than game-playings of 

Nudge, here and there.

And maybe for your purposes 

You were absolutely 

Fair, and maybe much righter than writer

I ever was.

But if I need to work out what to let go

No easier road exists than to say – all gung-ho! – 

Fuck it, oh once and for all, my dear C:

It’s a tall story I told 

Of invisible animal:

Not rabbit that tall

But pussy unreachable.

You always were my goal, but I was never yours,

All told.

Not in the way I sought, anyhow. 

Not in the way I did buy.

Not in the way that still makes me hurt, though 

No longer cry: 

No longer that,

Any saw.

So maybe after all

It’s time to give up.

Your silence has overwhelmed 

My ability to be firm.

And I shall visit your city,

Your wonderful D,

And the sex I shall have there

Will now be conditional and 

Will be hard to fathom real,

And will not be what I ever wanted 

Of my next encounter, 

With woman


But in the absence of your kindness

And your love

And your thought,

And in the absence of a wife

Who I could’ve loved so dearly – wrought! –

I find I have no alternative 

To putting money on the table

For the first time in my life, and my survive,

And my thrive,

And my height;

As the sex I need

Becomes a sex I purchase

In the land of a quite cruel 21st century 


And so what do I hold onto?

Where am I valued?

Where can I see an unequivocal appreciation?

In my work and in my intellect 

And in my cells of grey and in my fanciful flight 

I get the impression good that I am 

Valued in measures just.

No woman who’ll be around me will ever care

To cock me fine;

But at least I can say my mind  does attract.

And that is far better than the nothing of before:

That is far better than the zero

Of no hero.

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