only eighteen words in

I'm the first to admit I don't 
understand

what's going on 
in this poem, only
eighteen words in. But

a man with a concrete tongue 
just told me
exactly abstractly how
he had been. 

I didn't ask! So,
I checked 
myself.

Just in case
I wasn't literally 
there.

I wasn't.
Just here! As
usual. Getting 
out of a scrape 
in a poem 

by stare. 

I write, but 
cannot understand so
fine, foul, fair anymore.
I suppose it's free, this sort
of verse, but it cost me
an arm, a leg and one eye. 

I count that cheap, since
you cost me my heart. 

All poetry since only makes
my sense 

ask
why.