Fix me Epstein - Then I met my own Scouse-Jew

1 Charm: “Dear Mr. White, … somewhat disappointed at not having heard with regard to the matter we discussed only last week I thought I’d write and attempt to impress you with my enthusiasm .. and belief in the potential success of the Beatles ..If I didn’t mention* that they were so much better in reality than they are on the disc, it was because I may have assumed you’d heard it before.” *Such a breezy allusion to the core of the letter, (I may have, not I did) prior omission disguised as mere oversight, countenancing Mr. White’s evident languor. A means by which to gain power. You persuaded that reader, Protected your parents, Courted the Boys, Seduced homosexuals Convinced wavering chair-buyers, with punctilious reserve and delivery refreshingly free from all vestige of Jew. The measured legato skirted the tip of your retroussé nose; the infinitesimal head feint fought off rogue introspection then segue into sybarite gaze, (A flirt, an inertia, as if halting time), Just a grimace or self-knowing homage Which showed you had no intention whatsoever of smiling. And this succession of feints tics and dodges The faithful mistook for Dinge-an-Sich: Vital Epstein presence.

2 Have we put paid to plaintiveness, ghetto and golem, habitual shockelling? Dear Mr Epstein, I still feel some profligate spirit Floating unbound in my cormorant cheeks Which diverts me from charm, as I fear it will leave me, And I just can’t expunge it. When I watched you last night, I was transfixed; You made me think of that charm I once had but Forsook. So I can’t maintain it, but if I could, (You could) I discount it for falseness, as it’s presented as mutual, When it’s really entirely self-serving; You become a slave to yourself, and fodder for loneliness and though I’ve wilted and atrophied, and charm could renew me, I yearn to be open and kind and consider the other Though that translated quite often as openly self-hating.

3 I think my grandfather once met you; Ep-styne ‘Ep’ short for ‘eppes’, Yiddish for ‘something’, some worthy stone. You said: ‘Nothing of value breaks through overnight’ Which I took to mean me and the Beatles But what about you, did business become you? We started in furniture too, So a cabinet meeting, but by my generation, that business had fallen, and along this descent from migrant’s ambition, I met my own Scouse-Jew With smouldering coal-eyes umbilically attached to the heart, Scythed tongue to protect it; and he mocked Merseyside, Mother and father, mocked the good provincial well-off preservers of safety. And so far he went nowhere, like me, in one night or more.