I sit under the curve of a giant seashell
Naked and exposed
But I don't worry.
There is no one to see me.
The plain of green grass before me is bare
And no one speaks but the birds
I have left my bike unattended
Because there is no one to steal it
No
One.
Puddles spot the white cement
Drying in the half-sunlight
No one plays in them but dry leaves.
I jump in them myself
Though I am too old
I don't want them to be lonely,
Like me
The birds call
The cicadas hum
The old trees grow
So alive
But the benches stay bare
The stage silent
The puddles still
So lonely
And don't alive and lonely make empty?
