lament, by proxy

. . . at one of those moments when the sheer banality and shallowness of people who put on airs just become too much to bear. Way too much.

*       *       *

O love, in a world of shuffled papers
and cheap haircuts, your honeysuckle-
scented locks, your locked and gripped
tongue will always be delight to me. In
an alien world of distant characters,
you'll always be inside the dangerous
part of my forever welling willing heart.


--Barry MacSweeney, from 'Pearl Against the Barbed Wire' in Wolf Tongue: Selected Poems 1965-2000 (Tarset, Northumberland: Bloodaxe), p. 250.