I kept reasons bad enough to fill in all your forms. Called in resignations, 'bored' a hole right through my floor. You sat there with a look of awe on that face of yours. “What will the neighbors think?” “It's a scene they've seen before.” You didn't come back for any of the books you'd left: The Wealth of Nations and something I'd forgotten I'd read. You liked your politics, hated what I'd said. Well what did you find in the pages that I'd kept? Alone Against Tomorrow, alienated and suppressed. There was there no poetry in the lives that they'd spent.