Sometimes I begin to miss you

Blast the old days.
What about now?
Do as you like,
but please,
no apologies.

You did, didn't you?
With or without it.
Or else
you didn't.
That's all there is to it.

"What do you want me to do?
What do you want me to do?"
Of course, I know.
That's what they all ask
when it's too late.

A pity, really.
Sometimes I begin to miss you
with your eternal scenes,
your foggy excuses,
your hocus pocus.

Me, feeling guilty?
You make me laugh.
Get out of here
and don't show your face again,
ever.

[Hans Magnus Enzensberger, 'Volse triste et sentimentale' from Twentieth-Century German Poetry: An Anthology]