poem

 Badlands

So this is where all the broken hearts go.

Charred land of the withering

We’re surrounded by summer pines.

There’s a bonfire raging in the middle

But we never stop shivering.

They’re in the plaza

By the turquoise tiled fountain

With a child not their own

Tossing nickels and pennies

Into shallow pools of blue.

They’re playing well with others.

They’re actualizing their potentials,

Cheering each other up, quietly playing board

Games and putting away all the pieces

 When the games are done.

I know this is the place for me.

The second you wonder whether you belong

Is the instant you will be asked to leave.

There is no solace here,

Only the absence of loneliness.

8/19/21