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.