how can you be lonely
when the office lights
shine into your room from
across the river and the naked
trees together shake and the
yellow taxis all park in front
of the same McDonalds every
night, tell me the portraits
hung over the bedframe don’t
speak when you sleep, tell me the
stray laughter from the street
that takes you from a dream
isn’t more than just you.
photo credit: px here via creative commons
