Today’s poem stems from the wave of joy I felt when I realized I could more or less close the door on the world today and write. The most exhausting part of my day is stuff like small talk and conversation in the halls of the college, mostly because I’m just so bad at it. While none of my poems is autobiographical, I did in fact end up separated from the other kindergartners and put in a cubicle with a pile of books. For the most part, I loved it. I had Boxcar Children and Little House and whatever else came my way. I do wonder, however, if it was the best teaching strategy for a human who eventually had to interact with humans in some form. I love people; I just wish I could read them instead of come up with things to say.