After all the news, and an impending incident of me being thrown out of an airplane you look at me with patriarchal benevolence and say, for the nth time, hoping I shall see the light this time, that this won’t work, that if I really love Europe (for you have read right through me) I will have to work on my phenology.
But they’ve been there darling, they’ve been there
You are no traveller in unchartered waters.
But this time, this time I shall rise to the occassion and say that I have heard that all before, that I have spent the last thirty years hearing just that, and from tongues who spoke my tongue, not in conversations through some mutually adopted language.
And there was you, naively, thinking, there might be a flicker of hope
Nought darling, nought
Not for all the rivers and mountains of Europe
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