Chanson Philosophique

The nominalist in me invents A life devoid of precedents. The realist takes a different view: He claims that all I feel and do Billions of others felt and did In history’s Pre-me period. Arguing thus, both voices speak A partial truth. I am unique, Yet the unceasing self-distress Of desire buffets me no less Than it has other sons of man Who’ve come and gone since time began. The meaning, then, of this dispute? My life’s a nominal/real pursuit, Which leaves identity clear and blurred, In which what happens has occurred Often and never—which is to say, Never to me, or quite this way.