Written in response to a post by Luisa A. Igloria at Via Negativa. 

Dear Solitude,

when I turn the corner, there you are,
in your daisy yellow cap and gown,
an oddity among graduates. You are so
amusing, I take it as omen that you will
muse me. And you do

in your odd way, cause me to alter
every verdict, each corridor I traverse
until it is mine and mine alone. I have been
solitary in more than the usual sense.
Call it selfish, I don’t mind.

I’ve never flushed a toilet out of loneliness
for another’s bodily sounds. I have a job,
where I am mouth to mouth with mundane
problems, or wash a naked body with its
private odor—the breasts, the genitals.

Most days, any contact is more than I can bear.
Even when the patient is mute, there is much
distraction in our touch. How can I share
this great secret? Living at a distance
is the only way I can truly see you.

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