By David Ignatow

I close my eyes like a good little boy at night in bed,
as I was told to do by my mother when she lived,
and before bed I brush my teeth and slip on my pajamas,
as I was told, and look forward to tomorrow.

I do all things required of me to make me a citizen of sterling worth.
I keep a job and come home each evening for dinner. I arrive at the
same time on the same train to give my family a sense of order.

I obey traffic signals. I am cordial to strangers, I answer my
mail promptly. I keep a balanced checking account. Why can’t I
live forever?

• Living

Poet Bio

David Ignatow was born in Brooklyn, and was largely self-educated. For years he worked odd jobs—at his father's bindery and elsewhere—to support himself while he wrote poetry. His work eventually was published and he was offered teaching positions that allowed him to pursue poetry more actively. He also served as the editor of many magazines including American Poetry Review and as the poetry editor of The Nation. He was the recipient of numerous honors including the Bollingen Prize, two Guggenheim Fellowships, and many others. See More By This Poet

More By This Poet

More Poems about Living