It seems in my life I have always
, New Brunswick,
the boardwalk behind the Quay;
it’s a left-handed sort of life
driving me heartwards, though never,
When I thought I saw you/ on the boardwalk
my guts jumped: it
jerked the hook in my colon
(you always knew about bait)
You know how it was: I wanted to stand on my desk
on the last day of classes
and shout: O captain! My captain!
But you had your own rotation – I saw
it reel from view, and
(helpless to catch you)
watched your spiralling apogee.
What is the remotest segment of an orbit?
Booze, blondes. Too much of
a good thing. But I did love you.
We wandered, Pooh and Piglet in an
Escher maze, searching for heffalumps.
You calmly said, “Watch this,” and set fire
to my mind.
I saw you as the human yoyo, bobbing up and
sleeping, walking the dog, in and out
and ‘round the world.
I knew you’d be back, like hounds,
like a cycle of blood, like black
fruit springing into tree. When the
string broke, I hid my eyes, and
said, but it’s only a lute,
it will heal itself,
half-hoping I was wrong.
I don’t know why or how God looks
after you, beached like
stared at by the curious. I don’t know
how God manages. It was beyond me.
And so I kept on moving.