The below is dedicated to the poet Ernest Christopher Dowson, who sought solace in the arms of the world’s oldest profession, and died young, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_Dowson.

—

Can the kiss, paid for
From a whore
Be sweet?
Can the feet
Of a girl
That whirl
In a sad
Mad dance
Of pseudo romance
Forever seeking the main chance,
Bring real joy
To the man who refuses to leave
The boy
Behind?

I grieve
For the man who refuses to leave
The boy behind.
Yet, if he where strong
In his mind
He would abandon the long
Hours
Spent
In gathering flowers
He will never possess,
Repent,
And seek the caress
Of a true lover,
Or the consolation of poetry.