Paved With Good Intentions And All That Poem by Seamus O' Brian

You do that to me.
It's this frickin' 'lover's quarrel'
(Your phrase I'm stealing—
Not mine- though technically you
Haven't used it yet)
I mistakenly believe—
Why am I surprised,
You and I have this recurring
Sequence, like moisture licking
Stalactites one century at a time,
And I mistakenly believe
I have created you
But you turn on me.

There was a thought- no-
A beautifully romantic image
I was sure to express
And a single word—I
Put that word down—
It was supposed to be
My word—but you—you
Take hold of my mind with
My own word, and send me
To dripping caverns,
Fog-frosted bowlines,
Soil-moistened, arrow-frog
Kaleidoscopes of memories
I never had but wish were mine
All wrapped up, tied snugly
Into that single word
Which was supposed to
Say something
entirely different.

And now I'm standing in
A perfectly good sonnet
With wet shoes.
I know I said frickin'.
‘Cause I'm feeling frickin'.
Perfectly good sonnet.
Hell, call it free verse.
I'm done.