Togetherness is more than it’s supposed to be,
I won’t share this with you.
It’s bad enough for one;
two would make it worse
times more than two.
The pleasure of your absence
is requested until I can return.
It can’t be shared,
your presence would intensify it,
not make it go away.
Depression is too small a place for two;
there‘s hardly room for one,
nor air enough for both to breathe,
it’s gravity’s a drag.
When this is over I will speak of it
in the past tense
and join you in the garden
where we’ll talk of other things
270 ®Copyright 1972 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.