Am I boring you I’m boring you aren’t I
But know this I’m trying to do it right
Not to make it new or even to make it good
To fit in the chance encounters
To fit in the parts that just don’t fit

It would be pleasant to see a seascape
The boats afloat on their foamy billows
It would be ennobling to witness the hero’s struggle
It would be charming to overhear the lovers’ murmurs
Pass the time make death arrive more quickly less painfully

A child was run over by a car
A woman died of cancer in her early forties
A city was reduced to tinder and the tinder set ablaze
A teenager committed suicide
Convinced that he was going to hell

Let’s watch television
Let’s go for a drive and listen to the radio
I hope my friends will be impressed by my new jacket and shoes
But I feel hollowed out
The emptiness no snack will fill

I can offer you no excitement no entertainment
There is no riddle
Science will never reach the limit of suffering
Technology will never fail of ever-greater torment
I will continue hacking at this unyielding block

The world is fresh and ever-blossoming
The clouds swell and drive in their accustomed track
The predators stalk and the prey evade
Successfully or unsuccessfully as the case may be
Call it an update an interim report

I know too much and control too little
Is this how old age is supposed to be
This mixed bag
This compulsion
I cannot like an optimist dig with a pen

The opposite of social responsibility
The ills I descry not avoidable errors
Who talks like that
Some parts do not and will not fit
There’s a certain liberation in futility