Back in the second quarter before the end of life as I knew it, things had gotten marginally better, and Jane was not avoiding me entirely
(When I converted all these poems to HTML years ago, I gave the untitled ones a number.)
To revel in the inexplicable
To find delight in swirling confusion
To laugh while facing the intractable
To smile at deception and illusion
Mottos that I still try to live by.
Unfortunately, Little Mertseger did not think these things were good at the time.
Do you want me to care and not to care?
Do you want me to play and stay away?
Did Jane give me some mixed signals? Well, when your every action and expression is being monitored like it's an oracle of the Goddess Aphrodite, then mixed signals are inevitable. Any mixed signals were purely a matter of LM's interpretation.
I carried a torch for Jane for way too long. At one point in grad-school I sent her a mix-tape(!) and letter lightly wishing we could go nude bowling on a tropical island somewhere (!!). She replied with a friendly letter, much to my surprise. The perfume on the otherwise innocuous letter was enough to make me pine for another two or three years. Did she intend to put perfume on the letter, or did she not wash her hands that morning?
I can’t know and remain unaware.
I want to understand you. There’s no way.
No, LM, you do not want to understand. You do not want to accept a clear and direct rejection. You want to cling to false hopes.
I’ve watched the beauty play across your face
Happy to be talking to you again.
I wish I could have just enjoyed those moments. But lust demands more, does it not? Sigh...
Do you want me to help you find your place,
And yet not want me to help at all, Jane?
Because it's her interests that I really have in mind. What bullshit.
I guess I care too much and not enough
Why does this friendship have to be so rough?
No, LM, Jane awoke in you a good old animal rut, and from the moment you declared your love for her and she said no it could never really be a friendship, not while your desire remained overwhelming.
Just one more poem to go in the grand saga of....sigh...Jane.