Morning in the City
Morning in the city, an expectation
of crowds, and yet
you walk alone.
About this poem
About thirty minutes ago, this was a long poem. Cut. Cut. Snip. Snip, and it’s three lines. Actually, I think it was always three lines. It just took me a while to realize it. I think there is a lesson and an essay in this somewhere.
About depression. About loners, introverts, and the marginalized. About me. Maybe about you.
Funny when the explanation is longer than the poem.