'But What do you think of me now?'
'What?'
'Do you think anything of me now?'
——— Charles Webb, The Graduate
Well, here I am.
Here and nowhere else ——
What? ——
Yes. Here.
Or what they call "here" honey.
The damn awkwardness of my position you've noticed, surely, haven't you?
I've stressed it too often. And with too much complaint.
The joke's on me tonight.
But——
I'm still standing. Look at me.
Look. Look please. Do.
But no. You can't —— I know. Sure.
It sucks, eh?
I do my best, but I'm all wrong.
What? ——
Yes. You see.
Here again I'm wrong,
Here... —— I'm at it again.
Because.. well ...
If you could see me now. Right now. For a moment.
For a while ——
But ——
I said "Forgive me" on the phone tonight
Twice——
But (clearly) it does not erase the blot I am.
This I know. At least.
What? ——
Yes, It's ... It's me. Surely. Probably. My little états d'âme.
So full of shit. I am, ain't I?
I hate it when I get so lovingly cumbersome.
I'm in your way —— ain't I?
Just like too large a fucking coffee-table in the middle of your living-room.
What? ——
Yes —— Here.
And, well... you there.
Cayenne, French Guiana, January 2009
