by Bryan Stillman
I’ve not heard a word
During this past half an hour
In front of the Television.
I've witnessed guns and fires, wigs and opinions.
I've changed the channels and adjusted the volume.
I’ve stared and they've stared back.
I’ve expelled several turbulent breaths,
Shed skin cells and buried memories in new puzzles
Of recall and forget.
I’ve felt alone while preferring it.
I wish you sat close, leaning,
Embracing this vast distance
Between our silently composed stare-down.
Everywhere I look, I see you.
I wish you were less elusive.
****
Bryan Stillman is grateful to have lived in San Francisco for the last eighteen years. His new favorite question is 'Now What?"
I’ve not heard a word
During this past half an hour
In front of the Television.
I've witnessed guns and fires, wigs and opinions.
I've changed the channels and adjusted the volume.
I’ve stared and they've stared back.
I’ve expelled several turbulent breaths,
Shed skin cells and buried memories in new puzzles
Of recall and forget.
I’ve felt alone while preferring it.
I wish you sat close, leaning,
Embracing this vast distance
Between our silently composed stare-down.
Everywhere I look, I see you.
I wish you were less elusive.
****
Bryan Stillman is grateful to have lived in San Francisco for the last eighteen years. His new favorite question is 'Now What?"