Pardon me, while I interject,
Examine this - try to connect,
Apply your penetrating stare,
Make sense of this poet’s fare.
Stare up into the towering mass
of bedrock: stone and brick and glass,
masking bone and gilded sweat,
sketch on skyline, made perfect.
Wander through my hallowed halls,
Inspect the roof, inspect the walls,
serenade your Daisy Dee,
my conquests documented free.
As you wander through my choices thick -
with oil of painter’s paintbrush slick
burden me not by defining grace
in a man with no remaining space.
There were times I flew too low,
made choices quick, made choices slow,
choices selfish bound by id,
still there were things I never did.
Fault me not for circumstance,
though my actions faulty be,
a romantic’s beyond all reprimand,
there’s no romantic born like me.
So spare me from your judgement,
and leave my life unsuspect,
I don’t need your agony -
And I don’t need your retrospect.
You’ll see my life and glide along,
yet in vague and distant memory,
and in your choices, right or wrong,
I hope that you remember me.