La Idioteca

I have not felt a thing for weeks. But getting up and going to work on time I did what needed to be done, then rushed home. And even the main streets, those ancient charmers, Failed to amuse me, and the fight between The upstairs couple was nothing but loud noise. None of it touched me, except as an irritation, And though I knew I could stop And enjoy if I wanted to The karate excitement and the crowd That often gathers in front of funeral homes, I denied myself these dependable pleasures, The tricks of anti-depression That had taken me so long to learn, By now worn smooth with use, like bowling alleys in my soul. And certain records that one can’t hear without Breaking into a smile, I refused to listen to In order to find out what it would be like To be cleansed of enthusiasm, And to learn to honor my emptiness, My indifference, myself at zero degrees. More than any desire to indulge the numbness I wanted to be free of the bullying urge to feel, Or to care, or to sympathize. I have al...