Alone

Once you've spent a certain number
of decades alone, your view of
the universe begins to change.
Having company for breakfast
is an only half-heartedly appreciated
occurrence. Breakfast itself is
a sometimes and maybe sort of
thing anyway. You find yourself
thinking, even saying out loud,
"What, you mean you want to
SLEEP here tonight, as in, like,
spend the whole night and
wake up here tomorrow? Well,
that would be sheerly outlandish.
Why would either one of us
just sacrifice our peace of mind
like that?" Christmases, New Years,
birthdays, Valentines, July 4ths
all pass with twinges of resentment
in your slow movements as you
watch the Times-Square ball drop
or the patriotic fireworks through
solo windows yet another year.
You wonder what it must be like
not just to be part of some group
or other at holiday times but also
to actually want that, to divest
yourself of your sovereignty,
to subjugate yourself to
Group-think in honor of some
pagan celebration you've always
felt you didn't fully understand.
Who was this Saint Valentine?
Was there one?
Was our break from England
really a good thing in the end?
Shouldn't the day of my having
aged another year be a time for
deep contemplation rather than
senseless noisemaking and
inebriation? I need to lighten up
a little, I know.

(2007)