Her Softer Sophistry
I believe in you when you tell me that travel
broadens the mind, but it spreads diseases,
seizes sick men, who, repulsing all borders,
cough up 10 days prison for flouting orders,
tax poor outlaws to fill up with coffers tears.
I’m no Robin Hood, let Nottingham go free,
vote in whoever you like to run bureaucracy,
I’ll stay here; be a silk purse from a sow’s ear.
You suspect this might be double thinking?
Look - two woodpigeons billing and cooing,
him plump, all rump and necking hot beak,
her coyly steeplechasing sticky-back heat.
A pair of leather sneakers in rough shooing,
we’re stuffing both our 5 toes up front, but,
they rub and straps trap under caught heels,
try to undo knotty laces, we slip to and fro,
catching all too-knowing glances as we go.
Doctor Robert told me there might be days
like these, but, then again, nobody told me
in fixing a hole, that I’d get her into my life.
If we weren’t both married, she’d be my wife,
strange, how she gives new meaning to life,
her words travel me; in soft sophistry carve:
Dear, my loving you is deep within my heart
until I will die. Don’t worry, no one can know
about love impossible, say it’s so as it grows,
only I can talk about us to my God and soul.
We did not fall in love just to hide it. You flow,
like the Nile from my centre in flowing to you.
With these sweet arguments, she brings us in,
yet no syllables of sin. We’re travelling within
her long river voyage, seek pyramids looming,
bulging, indistinct polygonal shapes, rooming
within her warm welcoming home. She abroad,
returns with presents of pink scented sheets,
to make up my bed together, like I’m her Lord,
she, my lady in waiting lies, folds back pleats,
and, one onrushing night, we’ll cry and greet.
Sure, travel is fine, I say it broadens our living,
my mind's virus is cured by her loving and giving.
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