Tris Tram Poet I do not know?

I Am Not Macbeth, I Am the Fool

You wanted to give me everything—
everything—
every last thing— 

you bared yourself and said—I am yours. 
You said— 
we would out-do Mellors and Constance! 

And I, l'idiot— 
I looked at you through the eyes of a man—
voracious—cunning eyes. 

When I stopped—mid-stride— 
I saw it all—suddenly—clearly—through your eyes. 
Too late. 

Je suis Le Fou—non, je suis une fou.

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