The apartment is dark.

The apartment is dark.
I like it that way.
Through unshaded windows
I look across the street.
People there have lights on.
I see them through curtains.
A muscular young man
Washes dishes with his wife.
A woman drinks beer
In the blue light of TV.
On the top floor a mother,
A daughter, a daughter:
Three without men.
Next door an old couple
Smothers the fear
Of who will die first.
In a singles bar
I meet a woman
And have nothing to say.
Too many times
I have said the same things.
I watch here in darkness,
In the peace of aloneness,
And think about me,
And think about you.

by Nicholas Gordon