Low-hanging fruit

Places I’m about to leave – holiday houses,

hotel rooms, even home – smell bad to me.

We’ve been happy-slash-sad within these walls.

We’ve eaten meals, made love, fought, watched TV.

But now the lease we hold on being here

is running down, the landlord wants us out.

 

Let’s go now.

Let’s leave while it’s still a choice.

Let’s get the hell out before

we’re overpowered by the sweet, sad smell.