The thing I don't do, so much, is write anymore.
I don't know why I can't tell you,
or don't bother,
about all the wine knowledge come my way.
It just is. There are funny restaurant stories,
but I don't write them.
Rather, I think of Jack
and Bobby,
of how Irishmen are related,
in their basic character.
They don't have a lot to say,
just the right thing.
Lincoln, obviously, he too
was Irish, and cared
just what to say, exactly,
though it takes creative poetic effort.
He, Lincoln, just was saying,
I'm not going to hang anyone.
And put it in a decent way, one which gave the whole matter
dignity.
To bind up the nations wounds, malice toward none,
charity for all.