Crowded Aloneness


To stand alone
Among the crowds
Is to know a Manhattan subway platform

How quickly the stale air
Becomes infiltrated with
Wafts of
Perfume
Hotdogs
Body odor
And the ubiquitous mustard pretzel

People everywhere
Rushing uptown
Downtown
Cross-town

To be lonely
In the mayhem of humanity
Makes melancholy run rampant

To squeeze into a rush-hour train
Is to condense platform disturbance
Into compression-depression

One’s stop can’t come fast enough
Shoulder to shoulder
Sneezing
Coughing
Belching
Flatulence
Settles in like dumpster hell

Yet…

Upon reaching “my stop”
The anxious race up to street level is quick
Down the sidewalks
Bounding the stairs of a brownstone
Into the sanctity of my sanctuary

On with the burner
Teakettle heating
Coffee to brew
Novel’s chapter to edit
Attempts at peace

Bedtime comes slow most nights
They say a little pot
Goes a long way
Weed is of no interest to me
As my nightmares await

A ceiling spider provides
Solace for the empty heart
The eight-legged life perfectly satisfied
Hanging from the corner of its web
Awaiting company
That inevitably obliges its need

To sleep and wake
To check the web’s weave
To see the spider gone on reconnaissance
Allows a smile to envelop my face

Such a friend
This roommate of ancient ancestry
Asks for so little
Yet seems to have so much
As I’m told I do
But…

My humble asking for solace
To comfort my ownership of that
Which can’t be bought
Is unanswered

Such were the days of acquiring awareness
Days now of thanks and appreciation
Knowing wisdom is the triumph
Of knowledge and experience
Being given its impactful run
Unabated.