do you think closed windows are a sin
she asked, at summer dusk dangling legs
into the pond of an imagined childhood--
it's in a book somewhere; i'm listening to it
in my earbuds, glancing next to me, hoping
nobody will try to speak to me. She spreads
her arms overhead in tranquil joy: see the beauty
of a late sunset! As the train thunders deep
underground, all of us tucked into screens.
2023
No comments:
Post a Comment