It is lonely at the center of the universe.
There is just the one thing, human or God.
Yes it is a lonely place, what with the universe
spinning a lovely pirouette, moving on with its life
while I wait, quiet as a written word or light
invisible behind the gray flat line of horizon
gathered like weather before the front pours
over the mountains.
I wish God had put me somewhere else.
A place where the air moves,
where a bird might land on my shoulder,
where words can be exchanged in the town square
instead of in a vacuum. A place where a touch
does not have such a long way to travel.