For B.L.
This guy Bruce, at the paddle tennis courts,
Is fond of mocking me. “If you’re so smart,
How come you’re not happy?” Brash, he exhorts
His narcissistic principles—imparts
Philosophy that has an ancient name.
He’s got his, you see (as we have ours)—wealth
Enough, space to live, even modest fame—
Insured by decent (if not perfect) health.
“That ‘turbid ebb and flow of . . . misery’
Is not my problem! ‘Ignorant armies’
Clashing at night?1 Fuck ‘em! Idiocy,
Plain and simple, suitable for barmys.”
Disdaining blood, strife (too realistic),
He fashions mind-wrought bright peace (simplistic),
Eschewing all signs apocalyptic—
Abides within, wholly solipsistic!
(12/19/10)
1 Allusions to Matthew Arnold’s “Dover Beach.”