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Neruda Sheen
He seemed to be
In a quandary this morning
As he sipped his cappuccino,
In a pain that was not
Of the physical kind,
I thought about our
Past conversations
And it dawned on me,
He loved her,
Of course he loved her,
It was like a damn Neruda poem,
I love you but I don’t love you
I love you but I can’t love you,
But it was all of that
All of that and more,
Like waking in a scene
Of a Sheen delusion,
Understanding the illusion
And not able to do
A thing about it,
He had simply surrendered
To the impossible cosmic web
And loved her.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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