You put yourself in a house

slap on the highway there

signposting an invitation

to all life’s  passing flotsam and jetsam

to step in and stop by

saying: I will save you, get you, do for you

a  by-way cop-out shop

broadcasting that  consuming need

to be needed by, at least, all of mankind

(apart from the too familiar..)

but on your terms, pot-luck.

It is quite enough to love everyone luminously

in general, on principle, in service

with only strings attached one way

your end being infinitely extendable, infinitely excusable

- no deals,  no duals!

 

But for those too close, already spoken for

Oh! lock the front door, hide the key

turn off the Answering Machine

run away, Piscean slippy

from those supposed chains, traps, tricks.

All beloveds, all the relatively sorted sort

being essentially dangerous

with dubious agendas

no way, this way from them!

Make my day by passing on by!

 

What sort of love is this?

all these large words about it

the claims and proclamations

all that shining wisdom traded  for

serial one-track errand-running

 karmic credit-tripping.

The spider in its web, dead centre

all it does is sit alone and  wait:

it has nothing to do with your Directions

- passing by there on the highway -

or whether you get entangled in it!

 

 

2001