I look out and see the sun;

I feel no warmth.

I do not want to be here,

but I have nowhere else to go.

I would say I’m unhappy,

but that implies happiness

existed as a measure

to gauge an amount of rain.

If I listed all my faults,

I’d have something to do.

Today was much like yesterday:

hot, dry, and lonely;

The sun slowly shimmers

the surface of the lake, like ice.

(November 11, 2021)

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