I've Got Nothing To Do Today But

And You Read Your Emily Dickinson, And I My Robert Frost. And We Note Our Place With Bookmarkers That Measure What Weve Lost.

It's Pointless To Be Critical Of Your Stuff Once It's Done. I Don't Spend A Lot Of Time Agonising Over It. It's Of No Importance Once It's Finished.

We've Survived By Believing Our Life Is Going To Get Better.

I'm Laying Out My Winter Clothes And Wishing I Was Gone, Going Home, Where The New York City Winters Aren't Bleedin' Me.

How Can You Live In The Northeast?