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Our Acquaintance Is One
Our acquaintance is one I heartily regret.
The noise of your brays I wish I could forget.
You have perfected the art of the Fail;
and quite skilled also at friendship's betrayal.
You never understood the integral whole,
but always preferred the easier part,
abandoning each page you tried to start,
preferring the glass half empty to half full.
Ours was never an easy conversation---
as if its only vivified condition
was always some unspecified suspicion
that ours was not friendship but competition,
and its effect---resentful accusation,
and my remembrance of you . . . just derision.
Starward
