A Sonnet with Nowhere to Go

On my days off, I often hang out
in the break room at work. Usually
there’s a movie on. The couches
and love seats are roomy and comfortable.

Everyone is too young or too old
or too straight or just too tired
to worry about me. So it’s peaceful.
But then I think,’what am I doing here?’

Which leads to ‘what am I doing anywhere?’
And my mind runs back home where it all started,
lying in bed squeazing myself between mounds of clothes
that were washed but never put away.

Because I don’t know
where anything belongs anymore.


One thought on “A Sonnet with Nowhere to Go

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