Instead of the subway, I travel by novel.

Instead of a screen, I stare at the distance.

In place of the news, I read the clouds.

I cheer for my favorite team: the birds.

My colleagues, the tall-grass, and I like to gather

at the centrally-located watering hole.

We nod to each other in collegial agreement.

I ask if they saw that great moon on last night.

My supervisor is a back-porch wasp.

When I see her coming, I duck and detour.

During lunch-hour, I feast with my ears:

an all-you-can-eat buffet of silence.

Sometimes, if I feel like I need to be heard,

I meet with our HR department—the trees.

They listen quite well as I voice my concerns.

Then I return to my nothing inspired.

In the evening, while eating, I watch the tonight show:

a sunset, depicted in high definition.

As background noise while I ready for bed,

I tune to the all-cricket radio station.

Finally, I check the wall calendar—stars—

so I don’t forget what the plan is tomorrow.

Josh Lefkowitz, smiling, wearing a button-up collared shirt and sport coat, with bookshelves in the background.

Josh Lefkowitz was born and raised in the suburbs of Detroit, and received an Avery Hopwood Award for Poetry at the University of Michigan. His poems have been published in Washington Square Review, Electric Literature, Painted Bride Quarterly, Rattle, and many other places. After 17 years of living in NYC, he recently moved to Boulder, CO.