close but no fire island
we emerge from our rooms
in our late twenties
and early thirties
misty eyed and puffy cheeked
we ask: how did you sleep?
how did you get here anyway?
then we listen for some call of inspiration
while making cheap tea or coffee
go out for the paper
that ridiculous thing
and see it unfold
over many pages
take a look at our robes
of shrunken cotton
touch our greasy hair
kiss our eyes
that see much further
and look much better
now than ever