what a feeling this is.
like caring nothing
about being flayed in hell
or soaring through heaven
unable to register
what the emotion is
no anger or hope
no smile or frown
no thoughts of impending doom
or reckless salvation
I sit in this attic room
I stare out the window
the snow falls down on
the houses next door
the old factory buildings
the sand piles and the cargo ship
fog on the water
a mean wind
pushes around an American flag
bridges and cranes
poke above it all
right now
I don’t love
nor do I hate
and I don’t even care about
drinking a beer
this must be contentment
this must be heaven
and after finishing this poem
I know it will be gone
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