Wednesday, September 8, 2010


My house is dark
My house is dark.
I like it that way.
Through unshaded windows
I look across the street.
People there have lights on.
I see them through windows.
A muscular young man
Cutting the hair of a child
My apartment is dark

Some top hats eating
in nearby restaurant,
A woman drinks water
Nearby super market,
On the top floor
Some are dancing in
In the blue light of TV.
A mom, a daughter:
Chatting with next door women
three without men.
At the bottom floor an old couple
Smothers with fear
Of who will die first.
My house is dark

Too many times
I have said the same things.
I watch here in darkness,
In the peace of aloneness,
And think about me,
And think about the world
Beneath my sad disguise.
While I am near mad
Wish this poem were pixie dust
To throw into the street
My house is dark


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