pirouette

(Not really a little jig of despair; more like a slow waltz of apathy. How do you set goals when your only goals are to *have* goals?)

They have so many things I do not want,
And yet it's not as if I have my own
Things that would take their place. The telephone
Rings to itself; the unsaid elephant
Fills up the room as unread papers count
The days to weeks, the trees to empty bone.

I have nothing to say to them, nor words
That I could say it with: pluperfect hope
Without a present tense, an isotope
On Xeno's path of lives half-lived. Absurd
To linger there, better to move forward--
But I've no address on my envelope.