My silent acedia has become/

My silent acedia has become
an ancient inside joke.
That's the only reason I'm not laughing
after the man in my head asking questions says to me,
"If that's the way you see it, then there's no hope for you."
        I give a little smile.

"Better to have loved and lost"--
        slaked one's lust,
had fun and been busted in youth?--

Truth wears many faces.
Mine's one in the back.

I pass people on the sidewalk.
Behind their eyes are memories of
kinds of places I've never been.

They snicker at the way I walk.