And now a poem...

In conjunction with my last post, here's a poem I wrote for my Creative Writing class last week about on of the simple joys of being alone. (No, not loneliness, just being alone.) Oh, and PS, I'm not a poet.

Friday night

I might have heard myself chewing
if I hadn’t topped off
that silent space in my living room
with songs and the sounds of familiar dialogue. If I hadn’t
left the window open –

I might have shared, and let a slice or three
introduce themselves to a hungry new acquaintance
while I watched, hungrier still.

I would have closed the box and
let it hide while I talked to someone at the door.
No, he isn’t home. …If there was
someone at the door. Someone to follow
the delivery man. Yes, it’s all for me.

I wouldn’t have lied, or said tonight was not a bully,
if anyone had asked. But if I wanted
someone here, another hand, another mouth,
Could I have another slice?
I might have gone through names or thought
of extra large and more grabbing hands.

If someone came
and asked for me, I could have made room
on the couch that was too big for two
and opened up the box full of dinner getting cold.
I could invade the couch and
settle there for one night.

I can hear voices through the window
and I eat another slice, or three.