he always stood alone

he stood alone on the uneven tiles
he always stood alone
he would attempt to find
the loudest, craziest, busiest places
through the internet
and whenever he arrived
to be around people
no one was around

he hears hints of footfalls
but writes them off as echoes
ghosts of the once populated places
he stands alone in the middle of
airports, bus stations, malls,
supermarkets, stadiums, concert halls,
and the list goes on and on
he makes a visit once a week

he knows he is still alive
because he cuts his grass
pays his bills (once he didn’t
pay his electricity and it shut off)
he knows his dog still sees him
and the neighborhood cat still
meows up at his back door to
get some extra treat

he never sees another
human soul as he passes his days
doing his work at home
ordering his food online
banking through the ATM
it doesn’t bother him really
unless he seeks out the contact
and he finds himself
alone in Grand Central Station
during the busiest travel day
of the year

something is wrong
with him, but he’s not sure what

About Kary

I write many things, prose, poems, prose, flash fiction, and novels. I've always loved the free form poem, and practice it most often. Feedback welcome. View all posts by Kary

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