My theory is, he just never got the hang
of how to pace himself – give a little here,
hold back a smidgen there. Not him. Always in
at the deep end, mister a hundred and ten
per cent and no one bothers to tell him (why
should we when we’re all having so much fun?)
that now and again ‘good enough’ is good enough.

Not that he’d have listened. His kind think they know
it all. They think they are it all. Even now
he thinks he’s it, up there on his high horse, still
harping on about issues and principle
and who he is and why he won’t kow-tow
and generally missing the point. When you bum so
bright so fast there’s only one way left to go.

Maybe he got bored or simply tired of being
so damned magnificent and therefore engineered
the push, got out while the going was still good
before some bigger picture, some greater cause (a child,
the Party, human rights in China?) pinned him
down and put an end to the provisional,
uncommitted life, the one you walk away from

when it doesn’t measure up, when you finally tell
them, shove it. Non serviam.