Wouldn't it be fun to throw a party on that last day
Wouldn't it be right to stall individual homecoming --
The dismal lighting and having to notice the dust
On things and the lack of savor to what's still in the fridge
The beginnings of dysphoria not shaken by the inert
Prose of the books around -- you know, pep them up,
Wouldn't that be the right thing to do for all involved?
Corny hats, even, the ones with elastic bands to go
Around the chin, and noise makers, too, since when
You think about it, it's kind of a New Year's blast-off,
And there can be non-alcoholic punch to keep clear-eyed
Don't want to get weepy, just send out for sandwiches
Play some good tunes, hold hands, then, later, go to sleep.