don’t want a trimmed lawn

My love – my sorrow – my life The terrace above the basement window The basement — black as night I asked for it Threesome on the terrace, like worms dancing It wasn’t clunky Nor was the basement black The mason, the carpenter Stared: “Why black?” I didn’t answer Their outrage? Ignored The cultural poison sticks Clings like candyfloss Persistent, razor-sharp Like lacquer on wood “Black doesn’t suit everyone,” Im der Zeller said I don’t care Wooden benches, gymnastics horses from the village school Sawed down, covered with leather My sanctuary, my otium To sit, to be, to breathe Breathe if necessary To help is to serve, not to rule Listening, understanding, receptive To sit, to be, to breathe Breathe if necessary To help is to serve, not to rule Listening, understanding, receptive Gone against rationalization, traditions Habits, unconsciously inherited I don’t want a trimmed lawn Habit-breaker, free-thinker Feminist, provocateur, wild, dangerous “Just don’t talk to my wife,” he said Playing friend I’ve moved from solution to problem Because I ask questions Because I don’t accept the given Won’t settle The conversation sign “Conversation station” Reminder of humility To sit, to be, to breathe Breathe if necessary To help is to serve, not to rule Listening, understanding, receptive To sit, to be, to breathe Breathe if necessary To help is to serve, not to rule Listening, understanding, receptive But they know only the words Forget the meaning Don’t ask, don’t understand These lukewarm worms Holding on to their pictures Forgetting to ask what the other wants “The only ones who cared were the staff” Can’t they see it? No To sit, to be, to breathe Feeling, listening, seeing Just being The ultimate trip