Standing Inside

I watched them all move to the porch

like it was the natural thing,

like they'd planned it from the start.

I stayed inside and watched.

The railing was gray, weathered gray,

the kind of thing that never gets fixed,

just ages into something permanent.

My reflection in the glass looked away.

They were laughing, clustered together,

easy in a way I've never been.

Someone asked why I didn't join.

I said the cold, I said the noise.

I said a lot of things that weren't true.

What I didn't say: I don't have a porch.

I've never had one, never had the kind

of place where people gather.

Never been the sort of person

you stand around with.

So I stayed inside,

learning once again

how not to need.

My ghost stayed in the glass,

pale and still,

while they all glowed

in the dark outside.