Island

by Mitchell Harding

7/2/99

I go out to bars
and cafes
as though I am less alone
there
than at home.
I sit
and read
and watch people.
I observe a cute blonde girl
as I sit
and read.
I won't approach her,
I will do nothing
to bridge the gulf between
me
and
everyone else.
I would get drunk
(which would be about the same as this)
but I've made a promise.
Why do I keep it?
Why do I go to cafes?

The blonde is wearing
a wedding ring.
Time to move on.

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