He stayed home again
Listening to the ceiling fan drone.
Staring at dust and crumbs on the floor.
One more day he spends alone.
No one stopping by.
But he doesn't seem to care.
The empty chair at the the table's fine.
He's not from
The world out there.
Down on the street
He sees the art in black sideway gum.
Finds anagrams in bodega signs.
Can't tell you where his thoughts come from.
Clouds of dust and smoke
Blowing through his thinning hair.
He's setting out hunting images.
Terrified of
The world out there.
He can know the time of day
From the taste of ozone in the air.
Fell in love
With a TV mast,
But only hurts
The ones who still care.
He takes a deep long breath.
The late autumn air is dry, crisp, and cold.
As he breaths, his concentration slips.
His daydream begins to take hold.
Enraptured with this thoughts,
His mind wanders who knows where.
No one knows where he'll be found,
Except for in his mother's last prayer.
His mind drifts in the the cold, open air.
A careless man still wandering,
He'll never understand
The world out there.