There's two ways this could go

I could hit it
bullseye.
word for word;
the immortal poem.
and waste the rest of it
cooped up
in a small wood cabin with nothing but a few
bagels and weary eyes

Or I could meet a nice woman
Brown hair
Sunset eyes
Warm heart
and waste the rest of it
cooped up
in a small wood cabin with nothing but a few
bagels and weary eyes