The master proffered a loving treasure for the boy to find, placing his fingers on his lips to hide the smile there, and eagerly the boy set sail in his childish ship, with thoughts of plunder.

But over the horizon was an armada of destroyers. They saw not the boy, and were intent on other matters. But the boy scuttled back to port, for only a thinly disguised sleight of hand protects this boy from other, less kindly masters.

I sigh, because your prowess is unequaled, and I am in awe; I shall not follow those clues which you have handsomely dropped, careless seeming, along the way. I will not make the phone call while you are out, to hear your voice on the machine. I will not search for jpegs that I might know the shape of your face; I shy from the gaze of your eye, and though I seem to feel the warmth of your breath beneath the jasmine, it is a cherished secret.

This game is precious to me, the undiscovered game of all games;

it is a wayward weed, set at the heart of my garden; I would not destroy it by following its roots.

From the very beginning of this game the player was played; and I acknowledge you master;

I can but hope to serve as cabin boy, to dust your captain’s cap.


You see behind my eyes, and so for you I am naked.

Cover me,

and when you are done with me,

I shall treasure the wreck of this weed,

untainted by what truths may lie behind.