In this city of two million people we have been cast together you in apartment 3 and I in number 4.  All day sitting at desk or eating silent meals I hear you running taps opening cupbords melancholy radio.

 

Two weeks ago you ushered me into your apartment for wine you said sat me down in the kitchen I turned fumbling with the cork you lit incense hash pipe and inner fires thinking I was that guy you had always read about in romance books lonely poet needing love of older woman rescuing you from the clock ticking boredom of your life you folded down the bed.

 

You were in a nightgown tried to look coy downcast virgin eyes but were only pathetic besides I had heard your untamed shrew voice screaming at your teenaged son him empty brain yelling fuck off maw and I turned up my record player.

 

Now you sprawl on the bed like a cocker spaniel those watery eyes staring at my crotch I bolt my wine polite thank you gone.

 

Don't you see I'm impotent you don't want to fuck me you think I'm a highway to new life but I'm not nor can I drink with every wino hear his stories put my arm around old ladies in parks stop children from crying.  You're impotent in loneliness the city is impotent in vastness strangers are mirrors of the same.  I've nothing to give you or anyone now just fold up your bed drink your wine alone.