A Politician To A Historian Of The Heart Poem by S.A. Blair

What am I playing at? will I never learn?
Am I deluded, mad or just selfish to the bone?
I’m playing Russian roulette with a machine-gun
A physicist dealing with factors unknown

Who am I really? Where can I go?
In force nine waters with no compass or chart
Walking on glass with no shoes on my feet
A politician to the historian of the heart.

Why can’t I see that I’ve been here before?
The landmarks are clear but I’m closing my eyes.
Stumbling down a cul-de-sac late at night.
I stare at the gutter instead of the sky.

I close my eyes and wait for your call
Though nothing’s arranged, no nothing at all
I’ve only the hope that you’ll read my thoughts
But even if so, you’d care not a jot.