Stay
The clouds were pretending to be clouds
when in fact they were overheard comments
regarding his recent behavior, but muffled,
as though heard through a wall. Unlike
the personal messages being conveyed to him
in the form of asides by people on TV, chilling
in their calm and unequivocal malevolence.
In the garden the roses were opening,
chanting in unison, My name is Mary and
you really don’t want to come near me,
not if I was the last little swastika nympho
on earth, and what was that supposed to mean!
Then there were the others who lived there.
(Was he living there now?) They were indifferent
to him with the very striking exception
of two friends. He could tell they were friends
by the marked improvement in their moods
when his was at its most truly desolate.
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