Since they civilized me, it has been my fate
To sleep between the covers of polite hate.
There is such a bed and there is such a life.
There is such a trap. And there is such a wife.
To sit uncomfortably and hear poetry read
By a graduate student damaged in the head.
To be smiled at by poets smoking pot
And by a lover who loves, but would rather not.
To listen long to some damn advice
Old, useless, but very nice.
To be held up in traffic slow and slowing,
To listen to a conversation and wonder where it’s going.
To think through problems and see
Solutions are in the force of the personality.
To wait quietly for the beautiful song to begin
And the interruption makes it begin again.
To examine closely the application of the paint
In the museum, and I faint.
To make them unhappy because I am late
And nothing breathes. And we wait.
The tickets are bought. I’m touring the estate.
She’s not here. I lift the ticket and check the date.
I never meant to do this. It’s not me.
But I did it. I wanted it. Gradually.
