Sometimes I close the curtains drawn
To shade my irritated eyes
From twilight, noonday sun, and dawn,
And the joy that the light belies.

With my curtains and shutters closed,
I wash the windows of my soul;
I’d washed them not, were I exposed,
Lest hypocrites come to console.

Indeed, no one should see just how
Vulnerable I am washing
Them in the darkness and shadow
With my salty buckets sloshing.

Thus I defy optimism—
The light that would have me believe
That to not preach idealism
Would be quite absurd and naïve,

That should I block out its bright light
E’en temporarily, ‘twould be
Useless. It misconstrues my plight
Since its very brilliance shows me

The specks and smudges and smears that
Caused me to wash in the first place.
It’s time to draw the curtains back,
Since manhood can now show its face.