Just Wondering

Why it is that loneliness wants to claim me.
Or aloneness. Or just not belongingness.
Or just wanting to stay fucked up.

I go and do and give and receive, but I still
end up feeling this same way. Alone.

I think, at 50, that perhaps I shall never
feel any differently.

I dreamed last night of an old friend. She
kept coming and going in the dream. She
lived in a huge house in a city. An upstairs
apartment deal with this lovely terrace
and patio and a walkway that led to another
part of the house. There had been a party
going on at her place for what seemed like
days. I saw her dancing in her room--me across
the walkway to the other part of her home.
Her body lithe, supple, beautifully-shaped.
I wondered how it was she looked that way
when I knew she didn't. There were people
from my past coming and going, eating and drinking,
laughing. I woke up feeling very sad. For 20
years or more, I had the same set of friends, and
then things changed. I went to school, I started
hanging out with different people, I started
drinking heavily. I lost so much. I lost so many
years. I lost so many friends. And I think I shall
never know them again. And I must miss them
terribly to dream of them so often.

I have new friends, and I have felt many of them
are closer to me than the friends I had over
those 20 some odd years, but something in my soul
is not right.

I am tired. I always think of things I want to write
here until I get here and then I think what in the hell
does it matter what I write or think, and so I just
don't write what I thought I would.

I wil write this. My peony has four blossoms this year.
That is one more than last year. I noticed from the porch
today that they were in full bloom but I did not walk
out to see the blooms. That is so not like me.