Everyone must have friends?

Would therapy help?

Her mother asked the

agony aunt.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates,

Everyone must have friends.

She is twenty-one

youngest of five,

all have active

social lives.

Except her.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates.

Everyone must have friends.

She is in college

but has never once had

a night out or

met up with friends.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates.

Everyone must have friends.

She says she meets up

with people

during the day.

But spends her time

at home,

on her phone.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates.

Everyone must have friends.

She had a difficult time in school.

No one seemed to

dislike her,

but she was

always excluded

and she left school

without a single friend.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates.

Everyone must have friends.

If she meets one of her

school friends

now,

they are friendly, but

she will never

hear from them again.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates.

Everyone must have friends.

She is not depressed

nor overly anxious.

She has a job.

Loner, loser, weirdo.

Billy-no-mates.

Everyone must have friends.

Would therapy help?

Her mother asked

The agony aunt.

-Job

In another life

In another life I am

a collection of sea shells

Scattered along

an alien shore

Distant light years

Away

I go along my merry way

my day – to – day routine,

Staring at a gold sky

Washed by dry waves

wondering how

I ended up this way.

It is a utopian life

I suppose

where all my needs are met

I don’t have to worry

about things like work

Or school

on my planet of pink penguins

and gold skies.

In another life I am

a graveyard.

Bursting with bones,

some of them very old.

And moss grown

headstones

With faded names

Of long forgotten

loved ones.

I’ve been this place

for a couple of months now

never told anybody

where it is.

I feel safe here

The only other people

here are bats,

two of them.

I watch them at dusk

Their flittering

skin thin wings

Cutting arcs above me.

In another life I am

a boutique,

and my customers

Are professional women

who love my clothes but

can not afford to buy them,

So they try them on

And tell me

their stories,

all about the

pressure

they are under to be

thin and pretty,

So I give clothes away

because they need

something

without

any strings.

But it seems to me

that there is nothing

I can give these women

that they do not

already have

in their lives,

but they don’t want to hear that

So they return

Day after day

I give

And listen.

Until there is nothing left

And they move on.

– Job