I join you at your table, in my hand a glass of beer,
you laugh and grin at me, your teeth are white, your smile a flash.
I saunter close, sit down, and lay aside my balladeer,
you speak to me, and ere I see, our words make a great clash.
You say you understand me, yet cannot see why I won’t
tell you what others told me in the faith that I would keep
it to meself and will not prattle all these words, I don’t
feel that you are not worthy but my ethics are too deep.
So why then do you harshly growl, your look both sharp and dark,
tell me it is your business, when I know these words should go
only to the one that they were meant for, yet you bark
at me and call me words that really hurt me as you know.
And so I lurch at you, and kick, would throttle if I could
and all my anger, all my hate, is centered in this fight.
And as I push to hurt you hard as I hadn’t known I would
I cannot stop to wonder are you really on my side?
If we are friends as you had said, then why can you not stop
to push me and to anger me, unfold the darkest deep,
and might it not be wiser if all contact I would drop?
Because each time we meet more love and hate for you I keep.
And yet, though I have hurt you more in body then you see
to hurt me in my soul I am surprised when fighting ends
and laughter runs to clear the air that flows twixt you and me
I wonder are we enemies, impassionate, or friends?