I

Now you’re allowed to introduce yourself
As a man – nay, shining knight – of wealth and taste,
The question’s whether all that fame and pelf
Has laid your heart and precious soul to waste.
If not, is it due to well-learned politesse,
Or to some secret, bourgeois self-restraint;
Or is your shadow (the trait you most repress)
A sou-less troubadour, indeed a saint?
And when, as a bold Trickster, you seem to laugh
So nonchalantly in the Devil’s face –
While never lifting your own on his behalf
Or anyone’s – is this persona or grace?
I’m pleased to greet you; glad you’ve made a name.
Profound, Sir Mick, is the nature of your game.
Sympathy for Sir Mick
by Michael Peach

 

 

 

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