I Think of Harry, the Loneliest Person I Know

I think of Harry, the loneliest person I know,

who spends solitary winter days in his single wide.

In summers he drives over the Sierras to sit in silence

for two weeks with a group of  American Buddhists.

When I ask if he makes friends, stays in touch,

he looks at me and lectures about  non-attachment,

says no, at least he doesn’t pretend to be connected.