Notes on Empathy
Howie Good

This isn't silence, but forgery,
the thick rubber soles
of the nighttime attendant.

Who are we?
Only the very people we seek,
the ones who abandoned
their cars in the road
with the doors flung open.

It rained on my birthday,
but what do you care,

it wasn't your birthday,
and it isn't raining still.

And besides,
you have a new haircut.