Lonesomeness seems

like those summertime dreams

remembered when winter is there.

It looks like a street

where no one would meet

and hangs like a chill in the air.

Lonesomeness feels

like the grinding of wheels

on railings that run out of sight.

It sounds like a call

you hear down the hall

in a shabby motel room at night.

— John Clifford lives in Lawrence.