She asked me what coffee I wanted.
I told her she was the first human I'd talked to
in one and a half days.
I said I'd been sleeping and writing (which was true).
She said she wishes she could be a hermit.
I told her that it's not what its cracked up to be.
She said the grass was always greener on the other side.
I wanted to tell her how much I miss my deceased aunt
How I sometimes feel unworthy of love
How, even when I'm doing something right
I feel like I'm doing something wrong
I wanted to say that the worst thing is to live without hope
And how I must always stave off the temptation
How I could not read Charles Bukowski any more.
Instead, I ordered the French beans
and sat down with my books
(If only they could protect me).
Then old friends remind you who you were, who you are
And who you could be.
Hope, again. Hope, again!