5505. IT HAS SOMEHOW OCCURRED

IT HAS SOMEHOW OCCURRED

It has somehow occurred to me that I am always alone, with

no one to talk with and no one to reach. Solitary confinement

like this is a bitch. Can you hear me, then, can you? A minute

into morning, and I'm already lost in the rest of the day  -  a dim

light at the station, where the one lamp, near to my head, has

been out for 6 months. I sit nevertheless, awaiting. Just the

other afternoon, coming in the other way, I saw there was 

a painter crew from the railroad there, with ladders and

maintenance stuff. But they were just sitting, more lost in

space than I ever am. I hope it was break time for them;

and I bet that lamp-light is still gone. So little gets done

by so much and so many. So, as I sit, I hear the sounds

of cars and a bus  -  the taxi guys, as always, drumming

their foul minds on the tops of their cars, waiting for

fares while they smoke. Drink cheap coffee from the

handicapped guy. Eat donuts from the donut guy's

truck. Might as well be a tomb. They're all gonna'

die from those habits real soon. I'll say 

goodbye if I have to, I guess.