I sit in this room

starving rank and mad

and hate them.

The sound of consumption, 

rattle and clang of dish and slop,

tending to the daily,

necessary talk of finance and politic,

the cat mewing for attention.

While I work to understand the

mysteries.

 

Yet I love them,

Long night soliloquies

mild walks and rides

summer city at midnight

enduring the ages side by side,

knowledge of the struggle

and recitals and weddings and funerals.

 

So petty till tragedy,

must it always be this way between humans?