A Cambridge Lamentation
This place is always a little lonely
At the weekends...no noise and life,
I like solitude,
But not in places
Where's there's recently been
A lot of people.
Reclusiveness protects you
From nostalgia,
And you can be as nostalgic
In relation to what happened
Half an hour ago
As half a century ago, in fact more so.
I went to the Xmas party.
I danced,
And generally lived it up.
I went to bed sad though.
Discos exacerbate
My sense of solitude.
My capacity for social warmth,
Excessive social dependence
And romantic zeal
Can be practically deranging;
It's no wonder I feel the need
To escape...
Escape from my own
Drastic social emotivity
And devastating capacity
For loneliness.
I feel trapped here,
There's no
Outlet for my talents.
In such a state as this
I could fall in love with anyone.
The night before last
I went to the ball,
Couples filing out,
I wanted to be half of every one,
But I didn't want to lose ***.
I'll get over how I feel now,
And very soon.
Gradually I'll freeze again,
Even assuming an extra layer of snow.
I have to get out of here.
(Adapted from an unfinished and unsent letter penned just before Christmas 1986.)
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