If you need a guide through the territories
of loneliness, take me. I know these lands,
speak the language, have wandered here for years.
I’m self-taught. Too proud to ask for directions,
I drew the map, based on my own surveys and many
plunges into the jungle dark, the deserts beyond,
the endless dunes and empty seas without birds
or ships. I have taken copious notes, filled
books with longitudes and latitudes.
I don’t claim to be the foremost
expert, but
I’ve learned the geography of One
and its sovereign territories: solitude, single,
solo, island, isolation. I’ve studied chronic
cabin fever and tinkered with remedies.
My recommendation? When you think
you’re hungry, treat it as a need for company.
Go out for a cheeseburger, talk to someone
who will listen and take notes. Ask her
to repeat it back to you: two patties,
well done, American, hold the onions.
first appeared in Litmosphere
Richard Allen Taylor, Poet 