this place is dimmer than it used to be
not as much life
as I remember
this place is grimmer than it used to be
I’m starting now to wonder:
why did I return?
maybe it’s the time of day
or the way the light refracts
or maybe the change is more in me
I was gone so long, there was never any real way
to ever fully come back
the people I liked the most
have all but disappeared
and even the ones I don’t like at all,
somehow they’re different too
this place has gone so dim
it makes me want to shut my eyes
and melt into the floor
mouths, they move
and I think stories are supposed to come out,
but all I hear is the voice in my own head
saying, what the heck are you even saying?
am I looking at you enough
to make you think I’m paying more attention to you
than to the echoes in my skull?
probably not, but your story-sounds keep going
and I don’t know what else to do…
this place has gotten dimmer now
dimmer, dimmer, dim
dim-dim-dim-dim-dim
It’s
time
for
me
to
go
Garbage Notes:
This one was about going back to work after the pandemic. I was working at the front desk at a family rec center, and although I missed being there, I was hesitant to go back, for obvious reasons.
I remember the feeling of being back there was weird and confusing, and just not the same as it used to be. Most of the people who worked there had either never returned and had gone on to other jobs or they were never asked back. And naturally, everything had that post-covid and no-one-wants-to-be-here-and-now-everything-sucks vibe to it.
The lighting in the place had this odd, almost ethereal dimness to it—you know, like, not as bright as it once was. I don’t know if maybe they were missing a bunch of bulbs and were too focused on other things to replace them, or what. But the place was just fucking dim. And normally I like low-lighting, but it was a sad sort of dimness, like we all knew nothing would ever be the same.
People didn’t know what to talk about. Conversations were all awkward. I mean, how do you tell people you’ve been holed up in your apartment for months doing nothing except writing and eating and playing video games and god knows what else—pretty much just being thankful to not have had to go to the hospital…
I really felt like I had forgotten how to be a person for a while, and all I kept thinking was, I have to go. I have to get out of here. I didn’t know where or what I was going to do. But I couldn’t be in that place anymore. The place had gotten dimmer, and there was really no other way to say it.
And, yes, that was my cat Alex meowing toward the end of the narration. I guess he was telling me it was time to go…
Franco Amati 2023
Perfectly timed meow. I'm enjoying these reflections a great deal.
Franco, I so enjoyed your commentary following the wondrous (as usual) poem. It will be fun reading your work here...and better getting to know you. (Rather than assuming, as I do on Medium, that you are the voice I hear thru the poetry - maybe you are, or maybe you aren't.) Hope this comment makes sense. I'm in Italy and jet lagged. Talk about feeling 'dim' :)