look away

the winds shake my window into making sounds like on the creaking boats in pirate films. my parents said that they were lucky they didn’t lose power over the weekend with how strong it’s getting down south. my laundry dries quicker than ever and if I close my window I can work from my desk undistracted with no reason to complain. a package arrives in the mail - the new shirt I ordered online to have something to wait for. I’ll wear it on the street after work as though anyone cares what I buy from the shops. in a week or two the newness will have worn and I’ll want something more and play the game again. there will be something new to need, upon which satisfaction will depend until it doesn’t. I will look forward to something that means nothing until it means even less in my hands.

I lose the day to digital threads that unravel back into themselves. by time I close the screen I can’t remember what I’ve done or if any of it really went anywhere. there was a mistake or two and though I recall apologising I don’t know what it was I did. I wonder if I was really sorry if I can’t remember why. I leave my prayers and guilt at church and find something else to think about until the morning. there are films I’d like to watch and there are fears of how they might taunt the dreams that follow. there are more books I want to read than days I want to spend awake. I think of the reasons I smile between everything else. on the street by the station I pass somebody sleeping on the pavement and decide to look away.