I am storing up long nights of misery.
I guess I’m not sorry. We are having
a very serious conversation at the party.
However you came to pick me, it’s important
sometimes to be had. You find it very fun
to sass me. I am learning to take it.
I am half delighted and half a long time.
I am half frightened and half hour.
Anticlimax should peel off easily, and
cleanup will involve merely a writer.
Last night in my own archetypal material
Yeats invented himself. I am reading stanzas
from the person who distrusted his heart.
Yet worse if they were not intended.
And that’s how sophisticated our operating
systems become. I am listening
to everything, the excess of it