Pretense Enough Poem by Sonny Rainshine

Last night you woke up in the middle of the night
and said you were leaving for Berlin. When?
Tonight, before I chicken out. I will write
biographies of Wagner and Kafka. Why?

Germanic, Teutonic, they understand my pain;
I will interpret them for you. For me?
Your pain has many corridors, many chambers—
you have neglected your suffering. I have?

You have neglected me. I am Suffering.
I am the Immaculate Deception. You?
You will come with me, my Beatrice, my Dulcinea.
You will finally confront your heartache. I

will not. I will not. I will not. Because
you are insufferable.