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.