I become young in his presence.
Already there is something at hand
That I should pay attention to.
Something familiar
That has never worked out before
But still draws me in.
I should know better by now.
It suffices to be in the same room
With him.
To feel the repetitive catastrophe
The way things are between
Women like me and
Men like him.
It is an unwritten law
With the ugliest of faces.
And yet neither of us fancies the pretty.
The easy.
And yet.
I am a girl on a carousel.
I am ill,
And I want to get off.
But I have a weakness for dizziness
And the secrecy of inner mechanisms,
What drives him onward and me
Around in never-ending circles.
“Mrs. László Vágó in a Black Dress” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 