i trail from door to door to door
with the question, ‘how are you?’
painted bright red on my lips.
as each person steps out of their house
i find myself wiping my mouth a little more
and my clenched fists are stained
with other people’s welfares.
my triumphant return to society
sees me trailing a wagon of old books
home from the library
and i am just trying to make sure
that everybody i left alone for a while
is doing okay.
nothing has ever been quite as heavy.