This place

This place

After a lengthy search at last he found a place
Where they could live together
Undisturbed by their past he put the lid on,
Looking into a path of shared tomorrows.

He moved the old clutter out, painted the walls light green,
Treated the window-frames and doors to a touch of white,
Expelled all dust and soot down to the tiniest speck
And took a breather only when the place was refulgent again.

She was expected on Friday.

On Sunday he called her up.
The man on the other side explained
That she’s gone to hairdresser and will be back at 4
But only for a while as they’re going out.

There are many ways men deal with such state of affairs.
Some take to booze, some give a whore a ride; some
Cloak in icy solitude, put the weight of their backs
Into long hours of work that has no call for.

None of those masks will ever quench the yearning,
No camouflage will ever help them out.
They only mirror what reigns their sleepless nights
Setting unanswered questions ring in their heads.

The answers need to be searched and if ever found out,
Learned as if a brand new language, pick-pocketed
From remote instants safeguarded by memory
That still cherishes what has never been true,

But even in the harsh light of the new comprehending,
None of this should be expected to give in too easy.

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