TRAVEL CONDITIONS
I cannot stay.
There is whiskey to be drunk
and television to be watched,
dishes to be dried
and bathroom tile to be regrouted.
There is so much left to be done,
wagons to be circled,
battlements to be fortified...
I must not tarry.
I must be gone.
I must escape your wicked clutches,
your tenacious grasp.
You cannot hold me for another instant,
with your enticing offers,
your knee-battering smile.
Do not ask me to stay.
I will not.
I have things to do.
Places to go.
I must....
Well, maybe another five minutes.
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