I had been in recluse for a time.
First due to sickness of the body,
then the inevitable sickness of spirit that tends to follow.
I wanted to see no one.
I was happy to be alone
in silent isolation.
For days I lay, refusing call
from friend and foe alike,
the latter mostly being the women.
They were the ones who
pulled at me the most,
but the sickness was strong
and I remained apart from them.
When it was over I found
the friends gone and
the women gone and
the loneliness dragged in me
where it been freeing before.

What is one to do?

I walked to the park
and saw a man and his dog,
running with clutched
frisbee in mouth.
I saw a young couple
walking hand in hand
in that sacred paradise of two.
I saw pigeons peck at
scattered seed and
trees looming in dark shade
over various occupants of
the shadow,
and the sun above peering,
like me,
through wide-eyed gaze
at the all of it.
I had not known how cruelly
I had missed it,
and atop that,
I had not known how cruelly
I had not been missed.

How curious that life continues.