Lonely Benches


Was it possible for park benches to become lonely? He imagined so. After all, they just sat there, waiting until company came along. Worse, however, the company wasn’t always pleasant. Yet the benches were stuck, like the person at a party who knows no one. Stuck speaking only with those that dare introduce themselves on account of how uncomfortable you looked there in the corner on your own. You were clutching your glass as though it were a life preserver.

Then again, you sometimes get lucky, he supposed. The right person approaches you and sticks with you for the rest of the affair.

Still, it wasn’t the most pleasant way to be, was it? Waiting for life to approach you. You were passive. A bystander.

Yes, there had to be better things to be than a park bench.


And She Was


And she was




Her fears, her desires, her future

Vast as the open sea

Until the clouds roll in


It will end

For the light

From the stars at night

Never shines as brightly

As it does on Hollywood screens


There was nothing

And she was nothing

As she felt nothing

As though it were something


It will end

She thought calmly

Squinting against the sunlight


She willed coming darkness

To deepen the waters


She knew

It would be nice

To disappear into


Seagulls cried

Water lapped at her feet

Salt scrubbed

Her delicate skin

And wafted into her nostrils

She closed her eyes

And smiled

And waited



It would be nice