Missive, a new poem by Donald McGrath

Hi bro’, brief note just to say
Mahler auf der Couch a complete washout.
Vaseline light glancing off canal water, off Freud’s white linen suit.
Mahler a haunted crow, Freud a loping buffoon.
Abrupt cut-ins of the bellicious Alma
royally reamed by Gropius who was, moreover, well named for the role.
Well suited too… when clothed.
Left early—sweet dreams, Sigmund.
Picked up Bartelby & Co., smoked a spliff,
entered Dudedom und the book. Best reed
since the slow onset
of the Cabanne-Duchamp dialogues,
post hash brownie.
Had coffee this morning with a Ministry colleague.
He’s giving me the Bianco steely eye
and gabbling without pause of
Catch 22 and Milo Minderbinder.
I just want, love o’ Christ, to finish
my egg-on-muffin in peace.
But that was me, was it not,
tripping downstairs in Halifax
and perorating on Camus at breakfast.
So payback, then, in karmic coin,
small change, life in the Buddhaverse.