I Asked What We Should Do. You Said, I Just Don't Want to Think - The Details

I know how your house is built.

I know where to place my guilt

so you cannot rely on me that way.

You talked of losing your political edge.

I said, «It's hard when we’re in such a mess

of sand and oil and red and white and blue.»

And while we were searching through the chest your father made,

we found a paint-by-number pleading with a print of early Monet,

«Cover up my shameful eyes.»

I asked what we should do.

You said, «I just don’t want to think.»

So we met on Sunday at the curling rink,

but you had never really learned to play.

So we threw rocks around, not caring where they’d fall.

You said it reminded you of Operation: Shock and Awe.

We just laughed about the irony.

While you stood out on the ledge, you looked at me,

then placed my hand over your face and softly said to me,

«Cover up my shameful eyes.»

And while I shrugged and said, «What difference could I make?»

the thought occurred to me that you were one who I could have saved.

But you just smiled at me and said, «When you’re ready,

I’m waiting for you.»