"But it's only a photograph," they say.
Struck dumb, I look at them, I look at you.
Then I see you wink like a night of stars.

So I gave up
swearing and drinking and smoking
eating and smiling and hoping
even sleeping with the lights off,
but I came no closer, no nearer to you.
I gave up living, then I gave up dying
I gave up loving life and loving myself
even watching pretty girls go by,
but I came no closer, no nearer to you.

Can't you see that
I wasn't born to take care of my health
or to stack stones on top of one another
nor to weigh myself against gold and silver,
I was born only to be your lover.

But yesterday
while watching a pretty girl walk by
I realised that it's not what I give up
or away or what I give to you that counts,
but how little or how much I take for myself.

Life's a long street of cafes and restaurants
but I'll continue chewing on this ancient bone,
because when I do even the wolf smiles
and the whale blows the sea into the sky.

Is it always like this, like a madman's speech?
The disease is killing me but I won't give it back.

Why are we haggling, when it's all yours anyhow!
Do what you like, just don't let go of my hand.

I no longer know if it is day or night
in this old hotel room you left me in
without a penny and with the bill unpaid.
I have looked for you everywhere more than twice,
but whenever I search I lose something instead.
If I lose everything, how will I ever find you?

I am beyond loneliness and despair,
even the hope you will one day return.
But if you let go of me now, I will drown.

One moment I am simply occupied
with the most ordinary everyday thing,
when my head swallows itself and I drown deep.

Then unheard music opens me like wings
and drunkenness fills me like a soundless storm.

Then you are with me like a bursting river:
your eyes breathing an ocean of stars.

Your eyes make the ripping rocks and tide
appear as a pillow of scented roses.

Your eyes turn the fear of drowning into
desires, longing, the heart's only song.

And when I hear you singing with me
I am scattered everywhere like bluest rain.

This drunkenness does not fall over, play ass
or gibber. In fact it makes no sound at all.

I am drunk now as my wife reads and a door creaks,
as a car skids through the wet night and a cigarette
smoking in the ashtray goes about its own business.

Yet I am flying on a wave and applauding
as you sing your latest love song like a storm.

'I'm not a rich man,' I replied, 'but I've known harder times,
so I can't say that I'm a poor man
either.'

And you laughed like a pink balloon bobbing in the breeze.

'You misunderstood me,' you said, 'I meant are you rich or
poor in my love?'

'Then I am a poor man,' I instantly replied.

'Only a poor man?' you uttered quizzically and raised your
thick black eyebrows to the top of
your brow with disbelief.

Then in the instant of a flash, you dug your hand into my
chest and pulled out my heart, laying it
flat on your palm and opening it out like a book. You studied
it closely for a while before thrusting
it before my eyes:

'See, just as I thought!' you quipped with open delight, 'it's
full of many things, but there's not
even a hint of real love!'

For some reason your words did not disturb or alarm me.
Though their truth was undeniable,
I found them pleasant and satisfying, as if they had filled a
deep unknown need in me. I felt happy
and free, and 'at home' for the first time in my life. And I
thanked you for revealing to me the
zero of my love.

'You appear to be pleased that your heart is empty of any
love for me,' you remarked.

'I am more than pleased,' I replied, 'in fact I feel very
happy. All these long years I have been continually
troubled and tormented whether I loved you or not, but now you
have freed me from
all this worry and confusion. Now I truly know that real love
is a gift from God to man. Now I can
stand outside your door like a true beggar and cry out to you
with all my heart, 'Give me love,
give me love, because I have none.'

'And you will not be able to bear to see me so naked and
one day you will give me some,
because you are Love and Love must love. So why
shouldn't I feel pleased!'

Then you wrapped your pink laughter around me and for
the shortest moment we floated as
one balloon.

Is it just a passing fancy or an age-old habit?
A fragmented unity or a search for a lost part of myself?
An echo of misplaced beauty or a lack of self control?
Or what?

Yet there are those torn days and moments
when I want to forget you just for an instant
and curl my fingers around a pillow of flesh
and blood and to sleep long and deep again.

But what have I ever done without you?
Where have I ever been where you are not?
What have I ever held that is not you?
Whom have I ever known where you are not?
Even when asleep, I lie in your arms like a lullaby.

Forgive me, but I'm telling you nothing new.
I'm just talking aloud to indulge my vanity
and to relieve a moment of discomfort,
hoping to root my name in your heart
by carving myself in more detailed nakedness.