titled after a line by David Foster Wallace
I admit, there’s the temptation to stay.
We could put the books back on the shelves,
remove our passed-down-crystal from newspaper
and never empty the ashtray on the porch.
Let’s draw the curtains to the very edges,
let the fire roar and the food rot,
ignore the sour dishes and the mice
and the letters pouring from the mailbox.
There is this lump, a question, looming:
What if it will never be like this, again?
What if it will never be like this, again?
There is this lump—a question—looming,
and the letters pouring from the mailbox
ignore the sour dishes. And the tired mice
let the fire roar and the food rot.
Let’s draw the curtains to the very edges
and never empty the ashtray on the porch.
We could remove our passed-down-crystal from newspaper,
put the books back on the shelves…
Yes, I admit, there’s the temptation to stay,
only there is something in me that cannot close up.