Getting it wrong

Something to think about - my son just sent it to me. It is  read out by the author here.

Another sense of an ending,
(after Julian Barnes)

by Sam Gwynn
(born 1948)

It's pestered you for years and years,
Your private little worrywart
Like something buzzing in your ears,
Some static-tattered last report
From someone in the pockmarked fort
You'd never trusted all along--
The shitty, sentimental sort.
Suppose you got the whole thing wrong.

It's aggravating, like the lead
--Eberhard Faber, #2--
You'll carry (till you're done and dead!)
In your left palm. It's part of you.
It fits you like a worn-out shoe;
It's part of what you bring along:
Your baggage, and you think it's true.
Suppose you got the whole thing wrong.

Suppose the words were insincere.
Suppose you never got the joke.
Suppose you really were veneer
But sold yourself as vintage oak.
Suppose you suddenly awoke
To hear the real words of the song.
Suppose you spoke but never spoke.

Suppose you got the whole thing wrong.

In short, the short is what you are,
And short is always less than long,
And near is never more than far.
Suppose you got the whole thing wrong.