Gatsby's green light lingers in my closet
But I just can't bring myself to grasp it
To coax it into my pocket
And turn it round and round between my thumb
And my four fingers
Examine it to the point in which
I realize I no longer want it
I despise it, in fact
Its burden grows like my ankles on a long flight
It doesn't consume me
But it disgusts me
The horrendous growth
Is it worth the glorious destination
The green light
The next green light that is so alluring
While the first one is atrocious
But then the plane lands
The green light diminished
To make room for the next one to grow
And grow to the point in which
I despise it