There’s a drama to her postured pose,
a seriousness to her eclectic assortment
of cultural keepsakes and exotic recipes,
a wry weariness to the labored prose
that explains her qualifications to a world
far from anyplace she once called home.
He reads, passes judgment without trying,
and can’t understand the pain that comes
from living an existence without choices.
Distance – subsistence – wherefore innocence,
He wonders, she wanders, seeking solace
somewhere, anywhere, hoping not for
paradise, but rather, a string of quiet
safe moments she can call her own.
Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, teacher, and music journalist. One of his works was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, another was named “A Notable Online Story” by StorySouth’s Million Writers Award panel. He took part in The Frost Place’s conference on teaching poetry. Recent poems are published or forthcoming in The Compass Rose, The Fine Line, Front Porch Review, Kitchen, The Single Hound, The Whistling Fire, and StepAway Magazine.