an entirely human construct
Markers. Mid-October was a little
Early to be out coursing the numbers
Through the bitter green cattle meadows—
You needed that over-the-top twilight,
Whereas Jeeves could work with rags and a myth.
Some nights on the Isle of Man, you thought
You were some kind of ruler from the top
Floor of the tallest old hotel facing the bay.
You climbed into your armchair with whisky
And the blue jewel of the skies on the waves
And almost a sneer on your lips, because
You were, here, above the other tourists
An emperor of the best mystery
In this calculating cosmos—empty.
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