It's not in the listening to the absurdities

-

It's not in the listening to the absurdities
that spill out of your mouth, like milk
from a feeding infant's

nor in the sitting, eating, sleeping
together, as if we were brothers,
that I've come to understand

Honestly, I couldn't tell you how it is that
I know your emptiness, perhaps
we were brothers once, although now,
that seems impossible.

Forgive me if I ever have, I don't
pity you. That emptiness isn't real. It's clear
when you exhale on a cold fall night
and pause to admire the billowing clouds of warmth

In those nebulous formations (I know you see the same
as I do) your life; welling up from within

Its façade cold solid silent stone,

-

Its façade cold solid silent stone,
its windows, small and always heavily draped.

This kind of edifice was
well put together, of course,
Of course, no one would say different.

In such places things are private and secure, people,
behind their walls, never receiving guests, no no, but only
venturing out sometimes because, oh,
there is much too much to hide in a place like this
yes, much too much to hide.

Yes Yes anyone would say

Yes Yes anyone would say
I was crazy to leave when I did,
as I did, in that way.

No No I was not happy anymore
I was not happy and I could not
tell you. I can't remember why anymore.

Yes Yes I should have said something
I should have said anything. It would have
been better than leaving like that.

No No I couldn't tell you what
went through my head that day, no,
there was never a reason, or I've forgotten it.