The Neighborhood

Gray day outside, cars starting up
and receding as they leave you
alone. You wave at them from
behind the shades and fool yourself
into thinking it matters, though you know
it does not.

Alone; none of the furniture
matters, none of the floors matter,
none of anything at all matters
one bit. You could sit here
for hours and no one would know;
no one would have even a reason
to care.

Turn the lights off and do not
show yourself to the people.
They won’t trouble themselves
with knowing. They won’t even
trouble themselves with not knowing
you are drowning in their oblivion.

Something was left out,
was allegedly inevitable,
was supposed to happen.

Outside it’s getting
inexorably brighter.

It must mean something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T