She sat on the bench
facing the parking lot
instead of the pond,
because sometimes it hurts
less to watch people
leave than to watch a
sunset you have no one
to share with.
A jogger passed with
headphones. A couple
walked a dog that looked
older than both of them.
She pulled her sleeves
over her hands and tried
to remember what she had
wanted from the day.
Nothing came. Not
hunger, not thirst, not
the name of the song
still stuck in her head.
The streetlights turned on
one by one, like
questions she had stopped
answering.