But Why Should Someone Save the Date?
But, really, why should someone save the date?
Would it be lost in Dante’s darksome wood
like a poor soul in search of salvation,
or lost in the 1950s tonight?
In what would someone save the date? One thinks
Of piggy banks, Prince Albert cans, jelly jars
Old coffee cans buried beneath a tree
Or an ice tray in the cold Frigidaire
One is unlikely to misplace a day
A week, a month, except in a tired cliché