My feet carry me along the edge of a chip & seal street
Shaded by manicured maples, shaved sycamores, and elevated elms.
A lawn mower sputters, then savagely shears the blades of maintained grass.
Rubber against the rough surface approaches from behind, a car revs past.
When man’s noises quiet a moment, the symphony of tweets and whistles
Overtakes my ears, a hundred feathered fliers seeking companionship
Or warning of interlopers in their immediate territory.
I pause to identify the maudlin tone of the Oriole, out-singing the others.
I walk on.
Not joy, nor sorrow
The absence of feeling alive
Existence is not enough
There is no smile
There is no frown
No one wants to bother you
You want to be bothered by no one
There is nothing
You do not realize it
Do Not Care
When you realize
Sadness overwhelms you
You are too depressed
To make an effort