For Bidden..

He doesn’t tuck in
his socks or button his tie
but he’ll wear a smirk just fine.
—I won’t overt my eyes—

When he speaks, all I see
are wisdoms puckering
in pin-strip linings…
(lost by what he’s saying)

We are stuck, nuzzled
like paperbacks stained
in swirls slicked back
behind his ears.

He knows the dilemma.

its only your profession
that requires a pipe and
collar coloured in sweat…
we are separated by numbers
counted in flyer-miles, pages,
and steps to your office.
So let’s drop logic
and dress your chess board
in Groucho glasses instead.

You said Humour was the pinnacle?
HA, “Hume” was?
No, it’s can’t–
I mean— I Kant focus!
That’s clear…
Thats why he doesn’t address me.
That and because posts
shouldn’t French kiss.
answers are meant to be sealed
before dropping hints…
Either way,
that’s just something
I would never do
even though it can be done.

It can be done
but I will sit,
quiet and quit
and attempt not to be envious
of her and her
and those inkless pens he grips–
he’s never hesitated to throw those away…
So what makes them any different?


About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in My Favourites, Other Trivial Pursuits, Recovery (USA) and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s