NEVER SO MUCH
she never so much
as gave me a glance
in the philosophy class
the entire year
reading Huckleberry Finn
to shut out
the ultimate boredom
of every lecture
(surely it
begs all
sorts of questions
a philosopher so dull
he kills
philosophy itself)
but don’t worry
not going to bore you
I have flashed
forward
fifty
and here I am
again wondering
how I killed it all
when
she just
wanted love
needed me
to love her
dreaming the says it all dream
flowing out of our
sudden
unexpected
perhaps final
exchange of messages
in
which
she picks me up
in her old beige
Datsun
taking me
somewhere special our
final
trip together
and My God! this little
ancient car
of yore has
been Star-Trek supercharged
roars out onto
De Waal Drive heading
away from the University
somewhere
she will
not say
and now
to cap it all
this car has reclining black leather bucket seats
into which by
the G force
I am instantly
backwards thrown
last but
no way least
the old manual stick has gone
replaced by
mighty
automatic transmission
and
most strange big neon red
numbers on a strip with
gear selection
or
ultimate speed
clear and
conspicuous demarcations
the last of which
the one burning into
my brain
is 72
a big fat red 72
as if be
sign of
some significance
of my 72nd birthday
but I’m cool
the dream is cool
beyond
cool
and here dawn and day’s
reality quietly
ends it
poems 2 die for 