For Gregory Corso
We could survive the feigned graces,
Families taking sides,
Relatives taking offense,
Friends taking leave of our splintered company altogether.
We’ll brew a coarse disenchantment among the
‘I don’t know why I married you’ set
Still locked in front of referee televisions.
At least there will be no
‘what to do with the children’
During ‘this is mine and that is yours’.
O you can have the dentist if you wish
And I’ll take the chiropractor.
Seems like such an easy breakdown.
And I could take up painting
Penthouse nudes to coat my middle age;
Teenage blushes beside the pool
Caught on wolfish canvas by midday sun
And a careless wallet.
And you in a country house with dying thighs,
Astride the spinet bench
Rocking off some lonely Brahms,
Waiting for your accountant lover
Who loves you for your fingers
And forces you to a mad Tchaikovsky.
It’s so simple to be separate.
And to meet again at fifty
In an alcoholic compromise
With lying looks and
‘leave the bottle please, we want to talk’.
‘Wasn’t it good once?’, across the table,
And I smirking at your push-up bra;
You, suspicious of my hairline,
Take each other home to careful questions
Avoiding the bedroom and the answers.
After coffee we both knowing
Why we left us,
So quite, indelibly, single.