She became poor Rilke's Eurydice
and pretended Orpheus was Nietzsche.
III.
I've spent my whole life looking at women --
I can't hide that fact. I'm a male gazer
par excellance, questing for the Ideal,
Lohengrin aching for ethereal --
-- That's sweet, she yawned, my words didn't faze her,
some men think we're pools where sperm go swimmin'.
With a tongue like that who wouldn't love her?
Just coming up on the Seven Year itch
my grail was wilting, mind all ennui,
and she, too, was damned anxious to be free --
my clewful Ariadne had turned witch,
and she accused me of being 'above' her.
I don't know any more; just shrug and laugh
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