Cleaning after a recent tenancy seems like replaying
intimacies of not-quite-strangers - no ways to excuse
profligate behaviour come easy & burning its rubbish
guesses occasional excess wasn’t only in the surfeit
of chardonnay bottles or bourbon-and-coke cans - &
we imagined the rest, succeeding in reconciling their
dreams comfortably; it’d be what we’d’ve ‘ad a go at
in their shoes, maybe dressed as Pan having ball
An over-melodramatic contention or is it all empathy
blessed in an easier guise of wayward envy - a form
in parody of: do as I say not what I say I do, leaving
the door open to even more bizarre enviousness - it
isn’t the way we’re meant to be, unless messes like
these are easier to understand in being part of ‘em
© 11 January 2015, I. D. Carswell
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