Louis Stettner (1922-2016): Thanksgiving Day Parade, NYC, 1974, gelatin silver print; courtesy Scheinbaum & Russek Ltd.

I’m stuck. Where can I be?

Each door goes into a room of something that I used to know.

My brain is lost in a maze of thoughts.

They invite me into the rooms that the doors open up to.

The people tell me, It’ll be fine, now come inside, but I know that I’ll never be allowed to leave.

“It’s a dream,” I tell myself.

Where am I? Where am I? I’m lost.

Why, why, why am I lost in this dream of disaster?

They tell me, It’ll be fine, but it won’t. It won’t be fine.

I’m lost in a sea of despair.

Then I wake up. They’re gone and she sits next to me.

I ask her, “Why are we lost?”

She doesn’t answer. Why do I bother?

She never answers.

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