When it is quiet, outside
only a light commercial
for pleasures of the big city
inside everything gray

the smell of the dog
just me
walking around
as if I'm not at home

but explore what
there is to see of the people
who live here: nothing
special, though there is

one tidy room
with an empty cupboard
and on the bedspread a cuddly toy
soft under my hand

then it grows still
in me, I am
not looking for anything, there's nothing
I'd wish to hope for