I. Samuel Beckett is stabbed in the chest
on a side street in Paris,
by a notorious pimp named Prudent.
A stranger finds him,
gets help, visits him in the hospital.
I can’t go on,
I’ll go on, he murmurs,
Soon after, he marries the stranger.
The sun shone, having no alternative.
II. Beckett later asks his attacker, “What was the
motive behind stabbing me?”
“Je ne sais pas, Monsieur. Je m’excuse.”
This answer knocks the breath out of him,
provides hours of inspiration.
We’re not beginning to…to…mean something?
He drops the charges,
finding Prudent personably likeable
finding the arithmetic of emotional fidelity
Only a small part of what is said can be verified.