Eyeing those I should be with like marks
I smoke a cigarette instead, apart, and listen
to them grieve their grievances as I would
had I any. Like skipping vinyl I might have talked
germanely about how easily issues complicate,
but this would stall conclusions. I might
have argued the matter. Here my obligation
to silence assumes an easier posture.
Thought-balloons – I don’t want to die
remarkably but as a bankrupt social virtue does;
the hoarder’s fascination with belongings exceeds
the watcher’s fascination with the hoarder;
don’t let me end up as a photo beside someone
I’ve been only kind to – balloon then pop.
Can I say I know myself? Confidently, neither
before nor since. The group moves in ahead,
collectively connipted, griping toward the door,
their bodies to their lives as water is to waves.