the blinds are always as low
as they can go, the curtains

closed tight as fists against
all the light in this world still

trying to break through hands
held flush against the sun.

even when home
alone, I shut my bedroom door

so no one can get in to see
what life is really like for me:

lonely star without planets,
black hole. lately I wonder

if my need for privacy should
lead me to travel out past

Pluto, form a city of one.