I have the notebook.
The notebook has the outline,
written in the heat of the late-year prior —
when the project had me smitten.
The first three pages remain current,
entirely applicable.
The spine is cracked, the bookmark holds.
My friend shipped hers on a completely ordinary day,
announced it like weather,
the actual product in its actual finished state —
and I pronounced it genuinely excellent
while conducting a private audit
of my own position:
still on page three,
still in the habit.
The idea has not invalidated itself.
Nothing about it has expired.
A project does not decay
simply because the pace elongated,
because the days stacked themselves
between the first three pages
and whatever comes after.
Some of the significant work
in the available tradition
required more time
than the initial ignition.
More than the heat of late-year inspiration.
More than the crack in the spine.
I’ll sit back down with it
before the season changes out from under —
the outline still sound,
the commitment not yet gone asunder.
Ambition adjacent:
the address I keep
until the day I ship the thing
and change the forwarding.