how I keep track of everything and try to let everything go

I wish I were in the cold with you 

in your old dirty house

with your worried eyes and blue

shirt. I wish you knew

the underneath of me,

how I keep track of everything

and try to let everything go.

I wish we'd won that game of Russian roulette

we played that week in the mountains—

or lost, 

you would say,

and suffered the happy fate

of other fools who take a risk

and somehow get their way.

[Susan Minot {1956- } 'Breathing on the Dice', from Poems 4 A.M.]