“Myself”
I think I’ll
go out with myself tonight
and ignore
my doubts, like thieves,
lingering
like evil garden gnomes
beneath
sanity’s duplicitous eaves.
I have never
been a social genius
with intentions
written on my sleeve
as to
whether I should do this or that
such is
familiar isolation, I believe.
I have
always belonged to silence
though I’ve
often wanted to weave
others into
my coy, curt existence—
how quickly
that thought does peeve!
I think I’ll
go out with myself tonight,
make friends
with she-who-grieves,
because I
don’t belong to dialogue
but the
description of fallen leaves.
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