Poetry

How not to think about people

I caught the sads one evening,
even though everything was more
on the up than it had been in a while.
and I couldn't get out unless they thought
I'd gone looking for you.
I really didn't want to go looking—
I wanted to go outside
for some air
and then to the toilet
twice.

It's nonsense, isn't it?
How you can be so put about
by the absence of a thing
even though everything was so fine
before it ever occurred.
Paradise—parking lots—yada yada.
It's not a competition about who cares the least
but it is, sort of, a competition about who cares the least.

Lucy Holt