12/17/16

a thousand thousand windows

 
 
 
what a view it must have been
from up there

her apartment in the city like another
planet

traffic sounds far below you,
machines driven by ants
a thousand thousand windows

I wonder, did you wonder how long you
could stay there and miss me?
did the planet feel different with
me
so far away

did you hope that it would get easier
with time or distance?

I know the answer, and it’s okay to be honest,
who could blame you for honesty?

after all, the city is
bright
colored
noise,
they’re all so busy and alive, aren’t
they—look at the bastards living
down there

I’d want to be an ant too

still, someone ought to give warnings:

on a trip to Mars, bring a good book
because, my god, there’s nothing
out there

 
 
 

08/14/16

Everyone Else’s Home

 
 
 
last winter
at a downtown coffee shop
I sat on the bar stool near the window
 
I watched the people on the sidewalk
pulling their coats and scarves around their necks
keeping the wind out
 
I sipped a peppermint tea, a temporary comfort,
and watched
as they entered their apartment towers
moments later, high up, a window would light up with a yellow glow
 
a far away
warm, bright, home
 
and I’m looking at them, and I know, that I should go on
to wherever it is that hearts go on to
that it’s not doing me any good to sit here
wishing for a brightness of my own
 
but,
 
what’s hope for if not this?
I’m not sorry
I can’t be sorry
I won’t be sorry
that I’m going to stay awhile
looking at the lights in the windows
of everyone else’s home