Just south of the House of Eleven Doors

Just south of the House of Eleven Doors
south of the Bay of Tears
north of the Halls of Remembering and Forgetting

A grey man walks beside a grey sea
under a westering golden sun
Beside him an ethereal being seems to dance
seems to walk
seems to skip and glide across invisible air stones just above the hissing grasses

“Tell me a sad tale of love lost.”

“Well Minx. . .
A man named Finton sits at a table
An empty table in an empty room
the color of a pewter sky
Finton holds a wineglass
that might have been filled at some ancient time
But now cups cobwebs

Finton says
“The true nature of Love
is something I don’t want to talk about
Which means that it’s probably important”

He says
“It’s just a bunch of chemicals . . .
I mean it’s just a chemical reaction
When you react to that . . .
well to anything really”

“There never was any real Magic
Just an evolution of revolutionary
Those brainless neurons might as well be peeing on each other”

Finton sits at a table
Silent in a silent house
somewhere on the west side of town

Finton examines his wineglass
Sticks his finger into the glass
digs out the cobwebs

Finton says
“The real question in any tragedy is this . . .
Did either of the parties in question have any real choice?”

Finton stands
Upends the table
Leaves by a door

The wineglass doesn’t survive.”

Minx the mechanamuse cavorts
Says, “Oh poor Finton. . .
I’ve never heard that name before.”

“A man may have many names
if he lives long enough.”

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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