Please take away the stench of Scotch,
The horror of champagne, the idle chat,
The skyline in its Technicolor dusk.
Take me back to when I didn’t do it,
To when I didn’t know how surprised
A man looks when, with certainty,
He knows he is about to die,
And does not understand the reason why.
Please take away my eye for art,
My taste for finer things, the prep-school
Fumblings in the dark, the books I’ve read.
Let me be young again, and in the dark,
A window warmly cracked, my pillow cool,
My parents padding up the stairs to bed.