Four studies in loneliness

In a quiet sweltering living room
she sits transmogrifying a simple sex act
into wedding rings. She weeps.
A jay screams from the confines
of feral jaw.

Under a similar sun
in a similar room
he is surprised to find
success empty. The base
of a great tower begins
to fracture, he is biding
his time with whiskey
while the 30 day
waiting period
drags on

Another man, another leaping assumption. The
fog induced by modern chemistry lifts, but there is
no happiness in the brown sun of reality. What is
this religion of sobriety? Mesmerized,
he twirls his one month key fob symbol,
briefly contemplates drain cleaner,
instead lights a cheap cigarette,
his left hand trembles,
he slides the dead match
into a tuna can ashtray. Another defeat
for the worm, who regroups
beneath a deserted overpass in his addled mind
to plan new angles of attack.

An old woman stares at her long silent telephone
and several nearby family photos in gilt frames.
She frowns. It will be two weeks
before the Con Ed meter reader finds the body. At
her funeral, people, relatives weep over their loss.
while her silent phone sits on the dusty shelves
of a pawn shop.


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