The dog barks as the neighbor
slams his car door.
I sit and begin to forge this fantasy.
I am alone.

I think of it. My mind has died,
but never shared that truth
with this godless shell.
I am alone.

The dog is beautiful-hairy and white,
like a little Husky.
I can not grasp her language.
I am alone.

The car is white, like the dog.
It is parked in the garage.
It beckons to me wordlessly.
I am alone.

I am partial to Billy Joel.
I think he could be a Poet Laureate.
They ridicule him.
I am alone.

There is a door at the bottom
of the stairway.
I close it. I slowly grab a towel.
I am alone.

The towel is white.
I stuff it tightly under the door.
It is sealed. The dog is upstairs.
I am alone.

I look at the work of my Poet Laureate.
“The Nylon Curtain” seems appropriate.
I choose it.
I am alone.

I enter the garage,
closing the house’s door behind me.
There is an esoteric silence.
I am alone.

Yet,
another white towel closes the gap
below the door which allows entrance
into the house.
I am alone.

I love the dog. She is safe.
No doors are opened to the hellish,
torture-ladened outside world.
I am alone.

I slip into the car.
The key in my hand finds its way
into the slit of the ignition switch.
I am alone.

I turn the key
and hear the car begin to laugh.
I block out the combustible laughter.
I am alone.

I open the car window
to make sure I inhale the car’s
toxic, odorless exhalation.
I am alone.

I induce the reclination
of the back support.
I lie back, hoping for sleep.
I am alone.

I hear the Poet Laureate
sing about
the death of the American steel industry.
I am alone.

The poet’s voice fades
as my eyes leak and then close.
I can not relay the finality,
for I am alone.

COPYRIGHT 2001 by Michael Bonanno
LOC Reg. #TXu 988-155

Reproduction of “I Am
Alone” or any part
therein without the
express written
permission of Michael
Bonanno is prohibited
unless the reproduction
meets The Copyright Act
“fair use” doctrine, (title 17, U. S. Code)..

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