Janet-- OK, this is a poem called "Compulsion".
And it's a kind of poem that every man
arrives through I think at one time or another in his life.
"In the gallery, my mistakes repeat themselves.
I take aim, I repeat, small sins, less pleasure,
we kiss our mistresses, they kiss us back.
Let's face it, I'm middle class.
Even when I run from my wife, I keep running into her.
I wear grooves so deep, I sleep in them.
Sex falters, but the trail mysteriously gets itself up
over the next hill and everywhere I go I follow pain.
If it's comfortable, it's boring.
If it's romantic, I go insane.
If each step were a different stairway, we'd get lost.
And each love a new woman, we'd get dizzy falling at such speed
and never hit bottom riding, riding."