thanksgiving.

i looked outside my window and it was almost undarkened
with a light bulb reflection floating there
beyond smudged glass panes who glance back at my world
with myopia they who set the border between in and out

of myself there is nothing out there

in this room flooded by three buzzing bulbs of brightness
cold and peeling plastic floor tiles jolt me
awake when i walk across at three and seven
in the night and morning
it took me a while to notice that

of myself there is nothing in here.

outside it grew lighter
until it was lighter
than this room.