my loneliness has no real name

my loneliness has no real name
unlike my comrades who shout out jens and rebeccas and saras

my loneliness has no real name
worthy of wrestling Kilimanjaro, let alone flying to the continent where it all began

my loneliness has no real name
that one can attach a face to as the lights go out and the air conditioner is reeling and i begin to touch myself but beg to find out "how quickly can i get this over with?"

my loneliness has no real name
only a dance, a waltz, that glides in as the 19th hour approaches
my bedroom and i measuring the height of our shadow as the sun sets in the LA sky,
weighing the heat of the afternoon and noting it's loss of density as night arrives
the ordained irony of it all

my loneliness has no real name
only an inkling of a feeling, a swoosh, swoosh, swoosh
of the amniotic fluid that once contained me soundly in my mother's belly

my loneliness is human
but has no real name.