You take your
pain
and write about
it
you can't say
it's like
anyone else’s
pain
but you
extrapolate
into
abstraction
surely
someone will
recognize it
and if they do
both of your
pain will be less
this makes no
sense
in your
favorite story
the aging roué
meets
a young and
lovely woman
the simplicity
of her feelings
opens him
replaces what
is inside
he comes to
believe
what’s secret
is our real
life
everything else
our wife our
children
is just the
passing of hours
and happens at
a great distance
from the true
self
this moves you
you too feel
unseen
you too have
secrets
don’t know how
to say them
your wife your
children
the men at your
club
they receive
you in passing
inside your
real life unspools
you await the
arrival of the young lady
who will lay
open your jaded heart
like an oyster
on a bed of ice
you are always
on your way
to the opera
house
where at last you
will reveal
this love
but when you speak
no one even
recognizes it
as words
