When you’re lonely,
leave your room,
swim a mile in the pool,
walk ten thousand steps,
work up a sweat.

Forget who you are
and why you’re here,
relinquish yourself,
genuflect, kneel on a pew,
sit lotus style,
follow your breath,
climb up a hill.

Watch the skaters on the rink,
jog with your earpods on,
let Mozart whisk you off to Vienna,
stroll down the Upper West Side,
listen to the sirens wail
until your ears ring,
play smooth jazz,
pretend you’re hip and cool.

Thank God you breathe,
that your toes burn
with frostbite,
that the wind
howls in your face,
that you’re still here,
hand the guy on the corner
a ten-dollar bill.

Keep walking and running,
until you forget your name,
who you are,
where you went to school,
what books you read,
how much money you made,
until you’re invisible,
smiling, spinning,
dancing on the pavement
in the gloaming of the night.

Never go home,
leave your past behind,
fly off to Koh Samui
and Phuket and Peru,
just never, never stay in your room.