I love how this town empties out at night.
How the buildings take on a life of their own.
With all the people gone they can
Breathe
And finally so can I.
Ironically
I feel a lot less lonely when I'm alone.

I wonder if someday I'll turn to stone,
Like Lot's wife turned to  a pillar of salt.
Only, I imagine it would be a bit less dramatic.
More like falling asleep and becoming part of a park bench.
In any case, I think I'd like that.

I wonder why I write these things
And who I am writing to
Immortalizing my thoughts here
In black ink on the back of a used
Envelope.
I guess I hope someone will find it someday.
I just wish I had something more profound to say than

That tree had blossoms on it last week
And now they've disappeared.