Whole weeks are going by.
We eat eggs every morning now
with every window thrown open. 

I would like to think I had prepared for this—
by going around like Christopher McCandless,
saying, “I have had a good life and I am happy,”
trying to savor the monotony and routine.
God can take me home now if he wants to!
(Just save my sangria.)

I would also ask that he spare my family—especially my father.
Actually, don’t take anyone,
even the worst of us!
This is no time for moral relativism
and it’s a great & terrible time to quit smoking.
What difference does it make?

When we met the nurse on the roof and she was wearing a flower crown and said,
“Do you want a cigarette? I promise they are corona-free.”
And when we asked her about the hospital she said,
“We will all have PTSD after this.”

I told her my sister was a nurse in Michigan,
and when I brought up my parents she assumed they live there too.
This is always happening.
(The assumption… and me bringing up my family.)

I didn’t tell her we are planning on leaving too,
and I won’t get to say goodbye.

You should know I had grand plans to invite you
to get high and sit under the blue whale at the Natural History Museum
and play cribbage or something. 

I was also going to get just drunk enough
To tell all my friends that I am in love with them
even more than New York!
(Yes)… but also because I met them here. 

To think I was crying on the subway in February
just thinking of that melancholy party
where I would mourn my metropolitan mortality.

I assumed that would be the hardest part of this season.
How embarrassing.

1 Comment

  1. Kyric Koning

    And yet you share anyway. That is a true blessing.

    Reply

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