Wasteland

No one is left behind —

not at the laundromat

or the cafe´, not on the shoals

of screen-fed expectations

The song that rises unexpected

from the woman in the car next to ours

while we wait for laundry in the parking lot

shows that there’s room in every life

for grace

No one is left behind,

not even me — I can’t be left

to wander in the wasteland

of looking from the outside

at other people’s lives

at the laundromat, at the cafe´,

along the streets of Springfield

on a Saturday, where other people

have lives that might be less disconnected

than ours. Or maybe not.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 22, 2018