Someone Else, I Think

You really wanted someone else, I think.
You always gave me orders, not suggestions,
From what I wore to what I shouldn’t drink,
And followed up with nearly endless questions:
“What makes you strange, unlikely to entwine
Your life with mine, unable to renew
Old, flat champagne or make better new wine?
Why weren’t you cleverer, and why weren’t you
A better lover?” you demanded. “Why
Did I put up with this unruly mess
Of a relationship? Years have slipped by,
And I don’t know. I couldn’t even guess.”
You wanted someone else. I didn’t change,
Which was predictable, my love, not strange.

Taxi Moo Gestation

If I can read lips, he said, “Taxi moo gestation.” Apparently I can’t read lips. — Beverly Allen, For Whom the Bluebell Tolls

I have a headache, and I need a pill,
Perhaps an osprey. I can see the sheen
Among the trees, I hear the mondegreen
Among the girls I left behind — my skill
Is leaving things behind. Now I feel ill,
And need more pills. Since I was seventeen
I’ve made my living in the space between
Truth and regret, courage and loss of will.

Please take me to your city by the lake,
Where we will balance on the waterspouts,
Lose all we once had on the roundabouts,
And jostle in the undergrowth. We’ll shake,
Escape the sour breath of the water snake,
And laugh at nothing: ink blots and bean sprouts.

Her Glories

A thousand battered books, also two gross
Of broken statues, Mozart on the spinet,
That’s what I have left, up to this minute,
And it will have to do. She’s comatose,
The nurse is set to push another dose
Of meds derived once from the common linnet.
You said, Give up verse, boy, there's nothing in it,
But, heavens, how I used to hold her close!

I stayed too long, and now I hate the smells,
The scattered noises, and the endless snow.
No one remembers anything but woe:
The glamour and the poisoning of wells.
Do you find harlots cheaper than hotels?
Should I admit it’s over, and let go?

Spent

For William, Mary, and Dorothy

Try not to argue so devotedly
For my ex-wife. You’re rather too effusive
To be quite nice. In fact, it is abusive,
Although I understand that you and she
Are still good friends. Preserving harmony,
Wherever possible (though it’s elusive),
Ignoring your demands, bold and intrusive,
Is all that keeps us from catastrophe.

I loved her once, and married her in haste,
As you know well. She suckled pagans then,
And I’ve outgrown her now. Since you were ten
You were best friends, but now we have laid waste
Our power to carry on. Once we were chaste,
And will be once more, but I don’t know when.