In the Room of a Thousand Miles By Billy Collins I like writing about where I am, where I happen to be sitting, the humidity or the clouds, the scene outside the window-- a pink tree in bloom, a neighbor walking his small, nervous dog. And if I am drinking a cup of tea at the time or a small glass of whiskey, I will find a line to put it on. My wife hands these poems back to me with a sigh. She thinks I ought to be opening up my aperture to let in the wild rhododendrons of Ir