Reading:
No deal exit If we can secure a deal that is to our liking There are sunlit uplands ready for the taking. Free Trade with all the occupants of heaven! Repent! And take back control of your soul! But even when they know their time has come Some men still decline the offer to be shriven. Reasons vary. Some think the whole affair is Pointless; predestination entails certain doom. The notion that what happens in that long good night Should hang on Grace that works only if God-given, Others find abhorrent. Observing vicious wars driven By worshipers of rival Gods they think, ‘This can’t be right.’ Men of a fastidious nature often find the ritual business Embarrassing, like recitation of a spell to get forgiveness, Or sprinkling salt over a shoulder to bring good luck. For them a spade is but a spade, mystic offerings, dead duck. Many find the deal on offer too like capitulation, Repentance too demanding for their pride. Or redundant, like the Mafia hitman at Confession: ‘I cannot love my enemies. I’ve shot them dead.’ Against these cavils, crashing out of life without a deal Entails what Tory placemen call, ‘a bumpy road ahead’. ‘The downside will uptick strongly going forward,’ In the words of one hedge-fund boss’s business spiel. Life may be no great shakes at present, but it’s all you’ve got. If you must, negotiate with the ‘other side’ about your ills, But remain! Stick with it, and don’t forget to take your pills! For exit means finito to at least a half-way happy lot.
Peter Lloyd Jones 