It’s Time to Get Out of Here But I’m Not Worrying About It
Breathing deeply in order to be prepared, not packing, I’ve already spent too much time packing, I think I’ll light some candles because I know they’ll go out sooner or later, and I’d like to go with them, though if it doesn’t happen right away I’m not worrying about it. I really need to get out of here—I’m going to move as soon as I find a new place, I haven’t actually started looking but I’m going to as soon as I have a chance, I’m taking care of it as soon as I get around to it. I’m not saying there’s anywhere else I need to be, I often move around in my apartment, from one room to the next, like a plant growing sideways, putting down my keys and not even bothering to pick them up, telling myself I don’t have to when I know I’m not going to. I know it’s time to get a new place, together with a new job and some new friends—as soon as I have a new place I’m going to find a job that actually needs to be done, together with a group of friends I can depend on, it’s the kind of group that pushes you or encourages you until it pushes you out of the group and into a new group where the people in the group don’t even know what they think about the things their friends in the group are thinking about. I’d actually like to find some friends who are thinking about things my old friends aren’t even aware of, when you have a new place it’s easier to find new friends, but if it doesn’t happen right away I’m not worrying about it.
Peter Leight’s poems have appeared in Paris Review, AGNI, Field, Beloit Poetry Review, Raritan, Matter, and other magazines.
