“My friend’s companion animal is licking my face and my friend asks Could you be content anywhere? And I say Yes, I can be content anywhere, but then I think Is that true? Of course it’s easy to be content at my handsome friend’s beautiful house, by his heated pool, in what might be a physical manifestation of contentment if ever there was one. So I think it again on the subway, think it again writing emails, think it again, but alas sadly: No. It’s not true. I can’t be content here in my uncomfortable present, in my uncomfortable chair, on the uncomfortable subway, at this uncomfortable desk, in this uncomfortable classroom. But oddly, I am content to visit the past, to say Hello everything I’ve lost, to say I wish you could come here to the present, my lost companion trees. I wish you could meet everything I’ve found.” PastPoetryTimeLossGriefPoemContentmentPresent Author:Jason Schneiderman