Five Frames About Being Alone
A supermarket carpark;
Sunday morning.
Flat amd empty as my breath.
A room tiled and bare,
a cell cool and angular,
all light hushed.
A circle of trees
Stand around me as a victim.
Head back I shout at the sky.
The Autobahn near Aschau.
Lights spot the midnight.
The few hidden from my touch.
Of course. The last one.
Through mist I hear soft voices.
My fingernails break on a sill.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2015
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