61

Yes, I’m tired of it
tired of it now, well
now so much tired of it
as wondering whether or when
it will take place; tired of dice
and cards, speculations
hesitations, pauses
shuttling between this and that
lying in the dark for what
must be days or at any rate
the space between days
waiting for a call, or a voice
even my voice if I could
recognise it as such
(I don’t like the way
the s turns z), infinity
against infinity means
nothing in my book
although I love those
lucky number sweets
mother, my mother
gave to me as a child
he always wanted the 88
I always wanted the 77
what was his name now?
father? no, not him, the other one
in the house, the brother
what was his name?
it’s all going to pot
as if it had never been
can you believe it?
as if it had never been
today that is, that was
now it’s the night
the rain drops, falls
down, not that night
minds day or day
minds night, not that