My Man
If I don’t understand my man, much less
Do I succeed in comprehending me.
It is as if he plays a game of chess
In three dimensions; now imagine we
Are playing tournaments, but my board has
A fourth dimension. That is how I feel
About my undeciphered self. Whereas
It might be good to posit an ideal
Companion, just as in the one where earth
And moon were once one body and then split,
Although I suffer from a distant dearth
Of facts about his sphere, the opposite
Is true of me. I know so much about
Myself the muddle causes only doubt.