I went to an abandoned building last night
and wrote a poem.

When I get like this
I like to look at old buildings
and imagine
that there's someone out there
as lonely as I am.

I thought I was making progress
that I had a small something
worth telling my therapist.

But the poem turned out to be the same
nonsensical splatter of words as always.

Do you understand me?

Come on down to earth
like angels slumming
and get high with us
simple-minded mortals.

It'll be quite like dreaming.


You'll see. . .


You just love and love
until you can't anymore
and then you die.