the recluse

A recluse lies beneath the stars and ponders.

He surmises, "so if I understand this correctly...for the most part...a woman is fulfilled by relationships...and togetherness...being appreciated...by a sincere man she really admires...who can make her feel secure and loved. She likes pretty things and laughing with friends and probably wants children...someday."

He figures, "well, I try to at least listen to her."

He continues, "but she's not really into machines and what they can accomplish...nor how fast nor how efficiently they can accomplish it...nor the feeling of rocking out with a magnitude that could instantaneously consume a small forest...and she really only sees these things as even marginally worthwhile when they happen to meet her immediate needs."

He adds, "however, more often than not she seems to be eager to listen."

He lies there for a while longer, just gazing into the vast and twinkling heavens.

He winces, and thinks, "and even if she were into all these things...would I even then appreciate her?"

He concludes, "what a sad, lonely world in which we live."

Then the recluse goes to sleep.