Wednesday, 20 May 2009


You’re unhappy when I’m absent,
I’m too angry when I’m there,
I suggest we keep our distance,
You propose we go elsewhere,

But there are no installations
For the likes of you and me,
And no soul of arbitration
To accord us parity,

But unless we seek concessions,
Or are big enough to give them,
Then there’ll be no further meshing
Of our independent wisdoms,

And from distance you’ll lament me,
And a wanderer I’ll remain,
And what could have been invented
Will forever stay unnamed.

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