Blame It On Manhunt

TNG reader Mike B. submits this poem.

I saw him outside the restaurant

Next door to where he still lived, where I'd once beenCarrying out his dinnerAfter IMing our agreement, his address, my ETAI looked into his eyesAnd was thrilled by his faceBut he swiveled home to eat


Amid the frosty fixtures of his glassmetal condoI wonder if he's finally arranged the furnitureThe sullen couch and haphazard chairsI saw through the door, from his bedClumped coldly around half-emptied boxesWhere I sat afterwards, tying my shoesLooking out of place

Just as he looked that nightOn the sidewalk outside his buildingNeutral and full of purposeI turned awayHeading toward homeWith the shadow of sadness that comesAfter staring straight in the eyesOf a stranger.