This was written based on personal experience. May not be good poetry, but of great sentimental value, because the friend referred to here, died in 1985.

disillusionment with a Trotskyite intellectual

the way you started off –

(i thought

you had a sword upstairs)

i wanted to go with you

but

you and i were shedding tears

over large pegs of rum and coke

and the thought of hungering masses

made you order some more chips

you and I believed in the printed word

mail order sales and the celluloid gods

you and (therefore) i were anasthetized

into an omniscient impotence

i would have gone with you

even if you had set out

to fight windmills with lances

but

did you