adios, adieu:

Let me fantasize I am my own man.
What would I say of imagination
or its Blakean enemy,
memory?

Though I cannot be Carlos walking off,
nor Paolo or Susanna at bay,
for whom none of this may matter,
I’m far from home.

What will I tell the Secret of Secrets
I left in my stead
when time comes
as close as now . . .

Adios, amigo, amiga . . .
Adieu, ami, amie . . .

(9 July 2011: Juba o-yei!)

copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander