It’s what I want to do, key word want:
to think of someone other than myself
once in a while, to follow up, to leave no
string hanging. These days I want to live
in a world in which, although I’m alone,
I’m not alone, not really—not when
someone’s out there to invite to supper,
drink wine, listen to music, recite a poem,
help make the night pass. I fail sometimes.
Days or weeks go by before I check
on a friend, even one I know is struggling
& whose burden I might lighten with a call,
because I’m caught up in my own fascinating
catastrophes. But I’m getting better.
To care for the ones I love, imperfectly
& haphazardly as I do, is a duty I rise to
more & more. Not long ago I spent years
in a dark apartment in Chicago, seeing no one
I cared about or who cared about me,
& I know how it feels. To be in this world
has come to mean being in it with others,
keeping their dear faces in my mind
even when they’re not in the room with me,
all of us growing old together.