APATHY
Cynthia Ruth Lewis
Just another day.
I rise, purposely overlooking your empty
side of the bed, dress, and go outside to
get some air, when I notice the bright
morning sun glinting off shards of glass
from the neighbor’s newly-broken out
window
I walk closer to invesitgate: screen’s
torn off and flung to the side of the
vacant house, window-glass gaping wide--
wasn’t sure if anyone might still
be inside
thought maybe I should call the neighbors
to let them know, but then again,
the world unfortunately being what it is,
maybe I didn’t see anything--
maybe it’s not even broken
I go back inside, leaving the front door
and curtains open, pass the unpaid bills
on the kitchen counter, sit down, light
a cigarette, and start to think, wondering
exactly at what particular point in my life
it was that I stopped giving a shit
