I live for numbers.
Check my website stats hourly.
Page view addicted.
Cyberjunkie
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I live for numbers.
Check my website stats hourly.
Page view addicted.
At my church they price
too high. Refugees, students
leave empty-handed.
Now I blog somewhere
else. A paid professional,
thousands read my work.
Today it didn’t
happen. But I thought it would.
What does Facade say?
Breakfast meeting. Lunch
meeting. Outside, homeless men
plead, Will work for food.
When you’re not here we
skip dinner, fall asleep with
the TV still on.
We’ve shut the windows.
Pulled out sweaters, pulled on socks.
A fall admission.
Undereye circles
purple as grapes, lids heavy
as harvest-ripe vines.
I was first published
in Seventeen magazine
thirty years ago.
Today we act as
if nothing happened. Over
night a cold front passed.