When I said, I was too tired to go,
I thought that you of all would truly
Know. But out you went. Keys
Churned the door tight. You left
To a reasonable night, and I
Bereft of reason, turning inward, sat.
Make an excuse. Say your lover
Is under arrest: that he has confessed
To treason and theft, has been detained
Under order of court. Say that I
Have spurned the sun, gone troglodyte:
Have gone deranged, half-drowned in port;
Or instead, that I have drowned in molasses,
Or a rather enormous water feature,
Or have been shanghaied; that seagulls roam
About my head, have flown the cage,
Whatever gets you back, tonight:
That your mother has found her lost, estranged
Piano teacher. Whatever passes
For any excuse, to come back home.
I actually had a great night in while he went to the poetry reading. I finally penned five drafts and learnt ‘Mary’ by Scissor Sisters on the piano. But the sentiment largely holds true.