Someday

Someday
I need to write a poem
that begins:

"I cannot find it
in myself to
throw away those old remotes.

"I am not sure if it
is because I fear -

with some ancient, lurking passion -

that only after I do
will I find out what they belonged to.

"Perhaps it is
I truly just do not care.

"Or, it is the fear
that a friend
has somehow taken them -
ALL OF THEM -
from their pockets or
their purses
and set them out
and about
on our shelves and
in our baskets."

Someday,
I should like to write that
out,
but not today.