Alone

Alone

Sitting at the kitchen table

on a Sunday evening,

listening to Miles Davis,

eating homemade lasagna–

one square from the big, full

pan begging for company–

alone engulfs me,

and I realize how scary

it really is, how “kind of blue”

it can be, but also how nice,

how tranquil, despite the

overwhelming melancholy

of this moment.

 

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