It would be too convenient:
For me, the deus ex machina
Doesn’t happen, and so I am
Left to make my own luck.

The irony in not knowing how
Does not amuse. There are
Any number of ways I would
Have wanted this evening to end,
And no way to make any happen.

*
The light is on again, and
Despite the lateness of the hour,
I find myself drawn there
Rather than to my own dark doorway.

Even I know that would not
Be OK, and so I turn from
The flickering television light to
My empty house, silent save
For fridge and clock.

*
It is rare to find a kindred spirit
That sees the same in me.
It is rarer still to find the
Courage to take that raw material
And fashion a friendship.

The risk is too enormous to
Fit into my little life, and so
This life is doomed never to grow.

My world feels smaller all the time,
No matter how many new places
I try to add to it. As the list
Of desired destinations grows,
Possibilities seem to shrink; the gulf
Between dream and reality widens.

08/05/2015

Posted on 09/15/2015
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