I see a tree. I see tables, I see benches,

And people. Because they're always

There. Nothing about their presence

Is significant- nothing tangible ever is.

This is a busy place, a meeting point

For briefcases and coffee cups, for

Crossing cell-phone lines. There is noise,

But there is no actual talk.

When I stand to get up, I leave

No indentation on the upholstery,

No impression on the carpet floor.

When I leave, I no longer exist.


There is no tree. There were never

Any tables. I dreamed up the benches

To put people on them. I like to be

The creator of my own destruction.