3501. NEGOTIATING IN LEBANON

NEGOTIATING IN LEBANON

(no more than Gilgamesh)
Everything is down to nothing and you

have hung your hat the way men of old

used to hang their hats. Both hands are

on the cluttered table. Near to the small

window, the cauldron is boiling as we look

away. I have noticed  -  much as it was in

Mesopotamia too  -  hanging low, seemingly

backwards or upside down, the March moon

fading off above the marshes.

-

I do not really know how much more of this

I can take, though I will take all I can for as

long as I can or as long as it takes. I am

nothing really but a scribe, taking these

illicit notes as swift they come to me. And

now, in this little pinewoods cabin near the

border, we are sitting in near dark working

out a deal for time and money. No odor

here, just the filthy, passing smell of

lucre, and you, insisting it's perfume.

-

Every door, I've noticed, has a variable

swing, steady, and built within its hinging.

This one, I wish, would hit you on the

ass as you are leaving. Though it is not

to be, it seems we both will sit here wishing.

-

You forget that I have lived a thousand years, with

a thousand more to come. While you, alas, cannot

now leave, nor do you have a chance of ever staying.