Joel used to read books of poetry back in Philadelphia, but, where he was now in Antarctica, he and his friends and family had burned all the books they brought with them on their trip to keep warm.

That was the only help anything like poetry would ever be to Joel ever again.

Joel couldn’t even remember why his friends and family chose coming to Antarctica after someplace warm and beautiful like Hawaii.

He couldn’t remember what they were looking for.

Joel thought about poets and their ideas.

He heard they had bad memories.

Not like, of childhood.

Just, they couldn’t remember any ideas they got.

Poets had to write their ideas down right away or else they’d forget them.

When they didn’t write their ideas down they forgot them, and then it was all the guilt and regret that came from not utilizing an opportunity when it was there.

Joel wished he hadn’t burned all the books, so maybe he could have some paper to write that thought down on.

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