Odysseus
Leaving all behind, you explore godgiven oceans,
then the plains, breaking step across babbling rivers
in case you are too many. Bridges are vulnerable;
they don't enclose. Your abandoned ships had names,
looked after you, did more than save you time.
You synchronise watches and split up.
You miss the camaradery, though soon the gadgets,
the chipped and countered sophistry, enthrall you.
Hearing an old friend mentioned at a party
you can't help but turn. You and your wanted past
are taken to separate rooms, dusted for prints.
One unmatched lie and the anglepoise will blind you.
You refuse cigarettes from the faceless dark but you can't win:
only spies have no accents, only lovers look away.
Tell them nothing but the names they want to hear:-
Rock Hudson (who burnt his bridges, not boats,
when he fucked Garbo); Pluto (who unlike Mars was a god
before a planet, then a secret pipeline, then Disney's dog).
Codenames: better no name at all and please, no flowers.
Suddenly, like a stolen handbag, you're dumped
far from where you remember. You return to the wife and palace
you never had, the shouts of children playing in the courtyard,
their eyes the colour of your footprints.
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