At once whatever happened starts receding. <br />Panting, and back on board, we line the rail <br />With trousers ripped, light wallets, and lips bleeding. <br /> <br />Yes, gone, thank God! Remembering each detail <br />We toss for half the night, but find next day <br />All's kodak-distant. Easily, then (though pale), <br /> <br />'Perspective brings significance,' we say, <br />Unhooding our photometers, and, snap! <br />What can't be printed can be thrown away. <br /> <br />Later, it's just a latitude: the map <br />Points out how unavoidable it was: <br />'Such coastal bedding always means mishap.' <br /> <br />Curses? The dark? Struggling? Where's the source <br />Of these yarns now (except in nightmares, of course)?<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whatever-happened/
