Is it preferable to be decorous
And bow gracefully
To the poet who holds all the cards?
The one I love
And pine for?
He recognized instantly I was
Still am, always will be
Was what?
Deep in love?
Deep in the arts?
Deep in the throat?
Or is it preferable to get angry?
Disappear again?
Which does he deserve?
He said to guard against
Sounding obtrusive
A man of few words
He managed to say
He managed to say
Obtrusive
To me
To me
And I was hurt but I apologised
To the poet who holds all the cards
He keeps himself in check
He won’t let a single card slip by
And he shows them all to me
Just so I know what I am missing
Look, this is the king of hearts he says
What a specimen!
Look, here’s the queen of hearts, a sad lady
How come such sadness? he asks
He’s a pretender, he knows how come
Each card signifies a loss
Each one reminds me of my job:
Entertain him, caress his vanity
Well, why stop at a caress?
How about a good old b and j?
His vanity deserves it
After all he practices his hobby
With superlative artistry
He is the poet of seduction
Forgive me
I sound obtrusive, I know
I sound obtrusive, I know
Hard to avoid obtrusiveness
Hard to be graceful
Hard to be graceful
Plus he meditates
A pilgrim of mountaintops
Which makes him even more desirable
I crave the gamut
I mean, what good is swimming
If you won’t dive?
I address him:
Will you draw me into the raw
Uncloaked intimacy of your orbit?
I am such a lousy card player!
