Talking in Bed

"Talking in Bed" by Philip Larkin

Talking in bed ought to be easiest
Lying together there goes back so far
An emblem of two people being honest.

Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside the wind's incomplete unrest
builds and disperses clouds about the sky.

And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why
At this unique distance from isolation

It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind
Or not untrue and not unkind.

A post by a fellow rampant intellectualist catalyzed my remembrance of this poem that I had to memorize during Duffy's class on British modernist literature last year. I'm sure initially I selected it because of the curt length. But in rediscovering it, I think it may just be quite appropriate to say that it's one of my favorite poems. It's disquieting in the hushest of manners. It gently explains the conundrum of disconnection we face as human beings, even as we lye there together, in what should be the most fusing of moments.

The fellow rampant intellectualist says that lying together naked with a random male prospect is most conducive to her being honest. But are we really being honest with one another when weekends bring naked lying. Finding ourselves in sheets or halls with people that we hope might draw us out of the isolation. We crave to dive into nakedness because it's what seems to draw the sought after bottom line. Here we are, lying together, naked, an emblem of two people being honest.

For me, in this life-long state I sink into of being disappointed by most people, I don't even feign the illusion of honesty. I suit up in essential, innovative plastic, and surrender myself to safe dreams and the most teasing of text messages. Not to say beds haven’t been lied in. But as of late, I find myself most reluctant to step outside of the isolation, because it has developed into something I prefer. Something of comfort. And no one has presented themselves as genuine anyways.

Even the word lye boroughs deep into the damned intracies of the English language. Who really uses lie, lye, lay properly anyways. I doubt I do. Where is the golden ticket to a golden laced land of honest people? Non-deceptive. Altruistic. Taking me into their beds with all the proper stares and intensions. Okay, such is an impossible fantasy. It becomes still more difficult to find/ Words at once true and kind/ Or not untrue and not unkind. Isn't that the surest thing I learned in college. The flip side always fucking lingers. We're here to be soothed, ripped-up, and soothed again.