i took a bus into the city
and all alone i wandered
between the hot sun and cement
equipped with my lucky blue jay feathers
and the warm embrace of the stranger at the station
in a thin crowd i swayed and danced
to a band that had stolen my heart
some many years before
i looked that man straight in the eyes
and sang along to his poetry
i stalked the night in a delirium
exhausted and in disbelief
over what i had just seen
i bid a warm goodnight to the receptionist
and her friend that stood outside with her
and i fell into the cold, cold sheets
of the second floor hotel bed
bathed in that strange isolation
and the neon lights from outside
i dreamed of the sweetest kisses
and the gentlest of hands
and of swaying back and forth
to the music still tangled in my head
i rose very slowly and deliberately
i stretched and sighed and sang again
as i was in and out of the shower
folding clothes and braiding my hair
and stepping back out into the sun
that was much more becoming
on that chill and blushing morning
i sat beside a lonely spider's web
to enjoy my coffee and apricot scone
i crossed the river and wished to dive in
even though it was october
to absorb every sparkle the light offered
in every little pocket around me
nearing the bottom of my drink
i spied a little bee in another courtyard
on the corner of Doctor MLK Jr Drive
she was dodging the bearded man
and his cruel tank and sprayer
she made me smile amidst the salvia
and kindly reminded me of home
a man approached my perch with a camera
and asked to take my picture
with my lucky blue jay feathers
and the diamond above my lip
he knelt down before my cement-step throne
and i gazed down the long black barrel
i smiled when he asked me to
though i won't deny i scoffed first
and in my headphones nick cave narrated:
and she moves among the flowers
and she floats upon the smoke
a piece of my mind still resides there
it lingers on the stairs i rested
in the gutters and crosswalks i skipped along
caught in the sunbeams that trickled out
past the alleyways and sunken thresholds
with their heavy doors that beckoned
from rusty throats and beneath their threadbare caps
but now i rest in a creaky house by the highway
still and chill and humbly charming
as i wander about its sagging porch
and the winding gravel roads just past it
i wonder what the real meaning of solitude is
and how she dresses or makes up her face
for i have seen many lonely things
and i myself often wind up alone
but in all these different places
filled with and emptied of various beings
solitude does not dwell there
or if she does, she eludes me
every single time
for in empty streets or thickening woods
i always feel something creeping up behind
hand stitching my sister's wedding dress
sitting at the dining room table drowning in satin
the old house groans in the frigid gale
speaking in a tongue i cannot understand
the scornful water smells of sulfur
and the pipes grow white blankets of limescale
how much of my isolation is my own disparity?
unable to comprehend the present company
i smile vacantly and turn my eyes away
downcast and hunched over needlework
to keep off the weariness of silence
the toddling child peeks out from around the umbrella tree
grinning with dotted gums and shining eyes,
and tugging at a waxen leaf, and reaching into the dirt
tiny fingers let slip the dark, damp earth
and it sprinkles all about the little dancing feet
which pitter-patter across the brick floor
like laughter echoing down a cavernous corridor
the father scoops up the curious little sprite
and says i love you, i love you
and they wave to me as they say goodbye
true solitude knows no strangers like i do
she takes no hostages along her sleuthing way
but i always seem to find the right kind
---with my sort of smiles and embraces---
that also frequent any place i decide to idle
a gray-hooded man with snake bites
retrieving my fallen head scarf and
asking me about the time, or
the older woman at the station saying we were twins
after giving me her second copy of the new testament
and the proverbs and the psalms as well
i have journeyed on alone, leisurely moving place to place
but i have not seen solitude nor tasted of isolation
i have glanced over my shoulder and smiled at open air
but never once has that place beside me been empty
nor has that mysterious spirit displayed her wide, round face
solitude does not follow me here, not truly there either
no matter how silent and reserved i continue to grow
true solitude says there's someone else i must know
