Each time I try to hide from one person,
I bump into someone else. In pairs they
walk, catching me off guard by light of day
or moony night. They laugh to watch me run.
Oh lovers, nameless friends, it's all the same.
For when I seek my meager solitude,
then in they swoop and I must not be rude.
Hello, hello! My gritted teeth complain.
Society is fine, but this poet
can only think when she's alone, besides
how many friends disguise contempt with lies?
Better to trust as far as can throw it.
Alone, aloof, suddenly I recant.
Who knew poems made one rather distant?
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