Why would I stay here when I could go?
What is the hold up?
What is the bartender trying to let me know?
Do I assume right, this time,
Or will I stare hard and long at the frost-bitten
Front door, not even thinking to check the lock?
Not even think to knock?
I wonder what lung cancer will be like
I wonder if I'll outlive Bush
I wonder if my apartment floods again,
Will I be found out?
I wonder is the world soft, or am I afraid
Why I care so much about the strange,
Have I peaked? Will I cave?
Why would I stay here when I could go?
What is the hold up?
What if the lamppost is willing to let it go?
Do I assume right, thinking I am always wrong
And therefore free,
Or is as usual the world running its circles around me?
I think I'll be fine