an "ode" to all my friends

old friends everywhere, waves, nods, ‘mornings
to sit down at the empty café and hear the latest gossip
or even feel the sweat pooling on my back
for I still insist in wearing these heavy clothes even mid-summer
this time sat on one of my benches, in one of my parks
looking at all the city pricks passing by
at all the traffic outside the gate
at all the gray in this world
wild concrete world, house to all that’s modern, to all that’s me
even me not being all that modern
a den made to fit me like a buff man’s pinky ring
and also all of my friends, mineral, vegetal, animal
like that big rock you find driving out of town for a bit
or the pothead homeless that knows my name, rocking a 100$ bong
or even, and would you look at that, the handful of people with an active role in my life
chatters, lovers, friends and foes
the kids, the teens, the adults, the olds
a cheer from the poor homeless at the shelter
a group hug from the children at the orphanage
a couple handshakes and smiles at the nursing home
—"Oh, Anastasia, sweetheart, have you found a husband yet?"—
and later on, when I get home, I’m not alone
having to find the source of the putrid smell
having to cook me a nice dinner
having to know if I was right or wrong about the murderer
and even further
petting my cat
enjoying my food
loving my books
further yet, when everything is done, dive into the internet
see my ducks, my weebs, my computer people
the weirdos asking questions, the slavery-ish job offers
the neglected communities, the abandoned projects
the new video from that channel I like, the new episode from that show I like
and finally, throw a couple dead flowers over the gravestone of the old-lonely, shattered, glass knight
before going to bed
before packing the bags
before forcefully forgetting everything
before everything turns blank
first white, then black, then yellow
right on my face through holes on the old curtains