To amuse and enchant,
the lying must be extreme.
What I liked was strange.
What I liked was a dream.
What I Iiked filled moments,
moments which did not stay—
except in the memory—
a winding stair of decay.
Enchanting explosion of warmth,
sensations of the green sea,
everything seen in summer,
the image I spied recently,
old trees at midnight—these I liked, too.
Finally, all the thoughts I had!
Mother told me what I couldn’t do.
Society! I liked the false. And even the true.
I imagine elegiac looks, a video glimpse
of everyone I knew in my life.
Everyone I knew in my life.
The sad shock when the video was you.