Solace in Solitude

Man is a social animal-
One can’t exist as an island,
But I am just that,an island and my survival;
Isn’t a melodrama to keep me from becoming moribund.
Years of jadedness accruing-
Inside my bones brittle with boredom,
Like baneful magic done because it’s something of a thing,
In San Francisco where clam chowder is all that is wholesome.
Perhaps it’s all those years I spent-
Shuttling between my study room and the public library,
Wonder where the days of yore went-
As though University of Hard Knocks handed me out a bursary.