strangers, not home.

i want to be friends with my neighbors.


it's just

their empty glowing kitchen.

reminds me of someone you love
half awake in a hospital.
familiar and faraway
all at once.

wine glasses hang upside down.

a quiet army of clinking smiles and glassy eyes

for me.

crowded photographs live on the fridge.

i squint through my reflection
trying not to see shadowed lines.

my cheeks
they seem to sag now.

close the curtains.

imagine my picture there.