They zone out
over coffee’s pull
an enticing chat among the grinds,
milling words into sounds.
They zone out
on couches
meant for conversation.
Butts sunk in old places
making light of aged faults.
They zone out
when asked, “paper or plastic?”
too bewildered by thoughts of garbage trees
or masks of paper
worn by the ones they love.
They zone out.
Let life go on without them
for a few seconds, at least.
Will tomorrow never come
if they, specifically,
don’t say goodbye to today?

3 thoughts on “Zone Out

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