Forgive yourself for not keeping up with all the details. The room is a mess. But at least the heat's on. You just wrote one of those wise poems Advocating simplicity, but look at your dangerous tower of books Leaning against the wall. Failing to forgive ourselves is how we fall. Forgive yourself, then. Try a new restaurant in town. "Turn me off," I whispered to my computer, Anxious for it to shut down. I'm alone a lot. Everything has become me. I lecture you, but I'm really talking to myself In the exactitude of my poetry. The D string broke on my guitar yet now I'm more attendant to what the other strings can do. I'm learning how to play for the first time! You were weird. I don't really miss you. I shouldn't tell my readers this: When your friend asked you to pick the place Where she would buy you birthday dinner, You exclaimed how cruel this was to force the choice on you. I knew you were looking for any excuse to be angry and perplexed And when you announced she was no longer your friend I knew for certain I was next. When a fire begins to get out of control, Forgive yourself. Find an ocean. Swim. I can see it, a calm, pastel-mist, atoll. Be calm like it. Sleep. Lie around. Find a little place to shit.
