Forty-nine

“Don’t leave your room, don’t commit that fateful mistake. Why risk the sun? Just settle back at home and smoke. Outside’s absurd, especially that whoop of joy, you’ve made it to the lavatory--now head back straight away!

Don’t leave your room, don’t go and hail a taxi, spend, the only space that matters is the corridor, its end a ticking meter. She comes by, all ready for caressing, mouth open? Kick her straight out, don’t even start undressing.

Don’t leave your room, just say you have the influenza. A wall and table are the most fascinating agenda. Why leave this place? Tonight you will come home from town exactly as you were, only more beaten down.

Don’t leave your room. Go dance the bossa nova, shoes without socks, your body bare and coat tossed over. The hallway holds its smells of ski wax and boiled cabbage, writing even one letter more is excess baggage.

Don’t leave your room. Do you still look handsome? Just ask the room… Incognito ergo sum, as petulant Substance once remarked to Form. It’s not exactly France outside.

Don’t leave your room! Don’t be an idiot! You’re not the others, you’re an exclusion! Choreograph the furniture, essay wall-paper fusion. Make that wardrobe a barricade. The fates require us to keep out Cosmos, Chronos, Eros, Race and Virus!”

Written 1970 By Joseph Brodsky