Learning to Be Alone
i remember a lonely
sunday, four years old
mid-day sun shining through
the window, ants
crawling across the wood floors, i
had snacks so i directed them one
way then the other, squished
a few of them arbitrarily—
maybe it was a bad feeling
i got from the look in their eyes, i
dunno—i kept six or seven of
them, i had abandoned a game of
hungry hungry hippos
to my left and the ants i kept
alive started leaving one
by
one, five left, no more snacks,
three left, a few stragglers,
one left, then
it too was gone, the
day i learned
to be alone instead of
resorting to the hippos.