Most days I don't see
anyone—
just dogs
halls doors lawns.
This
seems fine.
These silent creatures
and I, we get along
famously
as all the creeping things in Eden.
Then again, if I
were Adam
this paradise
wouldn't have lasted long
as I'd have balked
at the prospect of sacrificing
one iota
of its staid perfection.
I would never consent
to the theft
of an inch;
not one ounce,
not a minute—
let alone
the indispensable
symmetry of my rib cage
for the sake of
conversation.
