Points of Contact

Hesse and Nietzsche
were at the hexogonal
gallery
leaning over the
railing
as I watched
two tiers down
hidden in a
water closet.

We all have to go
to deal with the
realities
of our own
mortality
and morality,
the shit in which
we lie
or which lies in us
or what lies we make.

We had argued, and
I said I was impressed
with the Fascist’s Neo Romanesque
architecture.
Why should they steal form
from us, because
someday
I might want to build
something big?

It was certainly your right
not to like
me,
but not to disparage me
before my peers
to deny my humanity,
my right to build and participate.
All so you could
appease
your own
insecurity.

I wanted to believe
you were evil
because without friction
we would shrivel into happiness
and disappear,
so I asked you to
define
the points of contact.

You said, I should be more humble
towards you.

Unsatisfied,
I have come to Borges’ library
to hide,
and calculate the points
myself
points of contact,
points of humiliation,
points of conflict,
where we’d met
and where we’d separated.

And I found no evil
only big words
with no substance,
not memorable,
like your face,
banal.

You cannot satisfy
my existential plight.

“To hell with that Wagner bitch,”
Frederich spat, and Hesse hocked a big one
to be polite
and they watched their
loogies drop
two tiers past
where I hid
and then dissolve
into infinity.

They laughed and spoke of friends,
Van Gogh, Satre and Camus.
But they didn’t mention Baudilaire,
and they didn’t mention you.

– Paul Bourgeois, September 25, 2012, Vantaa

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One thought on “Points of Contact

  1. A Fragment In Progress started out as part of the above poem but a friend said to me that Bukowski clashed with Hesse and Nietzsche. So I separated it. The physical structure is also different as well.

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