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Monday, June 11, 2012


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Sorry Interlude

I am at a loss, dumbfounded,
Neither you nor I have forgotten the depth,
The big range of ready affection,
We always felt exceptionally well-suited,
We were great couple in many ways…

You yourself proclaimed our special bond.
One early, Sunday evening, mid August,
We stood at the corner,
Seventh Avenue at Twenty-Fourth Street,
We were awaiting the turn from red,
A traffic light signal, the sign to say GO,
When I told you of a recent article from “Science Times”,
The every Tuesday section of the New York Times,
It reported that the outside perimeter, 
A year and half at tops, the time span of romantic love.

The passion subsides that quick scientists argue.

“Oh!”  You immediately demurred,
We had not even crossed the Avenue, before
You took exception, challenged the current science,
And proclaimed, “Not for us!”
You professed the special heat, how our romance,
Our romance more akin eternal flame,
Not subject to normal wane of heart’s intensity.

My soul took flight, my love, ecstatic.
I felt like Superman able to leap tall buildings
With single, terrific bound; I believed my power
Greater than steam locomotive,
That I ran with the speed of bullets.

Poppycock! Tomfoolery personified,
And me idiot for believing a word you might say,
By October you were gone,
Your every promise, your solemn vows, prevarication.
Everlasting love, indeed!  It lasted
A bit more than a month and one half.

I am sick of it, this terrible romance,
I can not go on, it’s too sad,
Too much, the caprice,
You toss me to the ground,
The ungrateful child’s unwanted toy,
However you may have wanted me,
I exist no more, and am broken.

For both of us there’s plenty desire,
You sneak up on me and stoke
The flame which still fires your heart,
Neighbors tell me they see you,
Saying how you haunt me,
How you seem unable to let me go,
Signs the real extent,
How much you must still love me.

And I write this love poem,
Though what was once this thing of ours,
This breath and we wondrous, beauteous mates,
Finished, driven apart, and my verse,
Has become a pathetic exercise, a sorry chapter
In story which goes nowhere,
It bears title, everything about us so crazy.

Had I not become accustomed to your way,
Spent no time next to you in bed,
Were I smart enough a man,
To have avoided you in the first place,
To have never said a word to you,
Except perhaps the usual humors,
The greetings ‘Good Morning, and Hello’,
The simple inquiry about your health,
Asking the everyday about how are you,
I would never have gotten to the point,
That loathsome feeling, you love me no more.

And equally, both sad and disturbing,
That mine, which once had been the warmest of regard,
Turns to disdain, and fervent wish,
We speak no more, and I never see you again.


I feel you woman. I have a telepathic gift:
I hear when you think of me, and you know it!
The vice-a-verse is, also, true,
The communication goes both ways,
Right now I could clench my teeth,
Do an inward scream, and its loudness
Would startle you and disturb your sleep to dawn.

I wish I could caress you,
Practice the arts I had just started,
Oh, had I more time to turn you,
To make you love slave, enthrall you,
But I really wish, I might have forgotten you,
Relegated your touch to a darksome, narrow defile,
A deep place and a dark, a hollow, where I 
No longer remember your name.

Can’t you fall in love with someone else?

I know it’s wrong for me to say,
I love you.  So let me go.
Time will strengthen my resolve,
I shall move on, your chance to reconcile,
To prove your word sincere and true,
Though once here, has long since come and gone.

Darling, we have fallen and are amiss,
No!  No joy, fruitless to embark upon a road,
A road running toward distant horizon,
With its final extremity, we arriving at dead end.

My pledges of love, all my dreams, now lament,
My heart, rent, my mind composes a sad story,
Neither can I live with nor without you.

I must stop it, quit the insanity.

I may believe, I may declare my love for you,
But I can not find the reason,
No need for me to keep my holding on

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