I'm happiest during
brownouts, everything shut-down
Nothing to do but play
guitar and sing
Or read by
candlelight.
I think of calling
someone,
I am naked without
A friend count (1363)
to comfort me
To tell me I'm not
alone.
I am instantly
transformed into the finite,
Four walls, no possibilities.
No 100 messages to
respond to.
No endless to-do list
of things to
Learn and read and
watch.
Just myself and the
guitar strings.
Just my voice
whispering out a song
So as not to wake the
neighbors.
Whole, alive.
