Lying Low
April 16 2026
There is no community of homebodies.
No bowling league or book club,
no fraternity or fellowship,
no faction, clan, or party.
Actually, no parties at all
if we had our way.
We stay within our 4 familiar walls.
We are either shy, introverts, or oddballs;
jealous of our privacy,
perhaps a little fearful,
uncomfortable with change.
Or is “our” too presumptive?
Since I’m on my own in here
perhaps I should speak for myself.
But either way, the word doesn’t sit well with me.
It seems to reduce us to bodies
as if we were just inanimate flesh,
passive slugs
warming couches and recliners.
Because what you’d never guess
is what goes on inside our heads
— a rich interior life
that hermetic or not
lets us travel where and when.
We are poets, putterers, and penpals
. . . bookish, fantasists, astral travellers
. . . unhinged philosophers
who are often impractical.
4 walls can’t contain me
despite how it looks.
Some day, perhaps, we’ll all arrange to meet
and learn we’re not alone.
Who knows, maybe the world is mostly homebodies
. . . it’s just we never noticed each other
lying low at home.
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