You removed all the choices,
you listened to voices
though they didn't even mention my name,
and when they turned sour
with blackness and carping,
you thanked me for taking the blame.
My mind was soon
eloping,
with fantasies groping
for something indelicately strange;
so I sat in the auto
with my life stuck in neutral,
but my thoughts couldn't begin to arrange.
Then we're back in the kitchen
with our
lips slightly itching,
though we manifestly fail to embrace.
Our ships have long departed
in different directions,
oh, and mine has just sunk without trace.