Lonely Benches

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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

boat

And she was

Quiet

Alone

Numb

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

Where

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

 

Yes

It would be nice