It laps around our mental feet
waiting for those moments
when we are alone
to rise to consciousness.
That empty aching feeling
of being so terribly alone;
insidiously, it devastates us
with the stranger’s face,
asphalt, other people’s children,
the women in the market,
all from another world,
now closed to us.
Such a gaping window opens here
just behind our suburban bliss
and our workday mindlessness.
A naked armageddon of the spirit
arrived from nowhere
to claim us.
gallagher
18 Oct 85
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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