(For the Eight Hundred Fools, One)
We never know, going away,
Whether we will ever come back.
Sometimes, we assume that we will.
Sometimes, we assume that we won't
And then weep all over ourselves.
But we don't know. Not even when
It's a short walk. Not even when
It's death. So we tell each other,
Gravely, never, ever assume.
I presume that's why we're always
Convinced that we've learned our lesson,
And that's why we're always surprised.
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