introvert, he is one
quiet with his time
passing the days like
a sleeping couch dog
not to say he
doesn’t pay attention to
it all, the unraveling
of life in this
magical year of screens
and awful virus dreams
breathing is so much
of the hours, in silence
content and aware that
maybe there really is
nothing more important
no one knows who
i am, no photos
of me on a
screen, where i might
look wealthy or important
wearing a suit, standing
serious, ready to buy
or sell something, or
convince you that i
am indeed successful,
i walk, don’t drive
a tesla, or anything,
and therefore you might
not know me and
how i sometimes just
stare at trees and
how that is just
fine, good enough to
breathe and watch you
in wonder, trying so
hard to be somebody
Daniel W. Polk 