A Terrible Lover.

I am a terrible lover.

Loving her, loved by her,

I would not love, be loved by, any other,

and so, uniquely blessed, obsessed,

all other men seem outcasts,

so many tramps, beggars.

I am a terrible lover,

the more firmly in, the more cut off,

the more ensconced as king

the more overwhelmed by the common throng,

suspecting that I, too, am but a beggar,

a dull-eyed wanderer

who, by chance thus elevated,

has left his loneliness upon the world.