Not interested happens a trillion times an hour;
it is what save us from ourselves and others;
you cannot be interested in every flower—
that’s why he have the word, “flower;”
Words let us pretend that we pretend.
Love, they say, must always end—
the excitement diminishes
until we say, “you know what? I’m not interested.”
And to prove this, we go to war
just to prove we’re not interested anymore—
and this allows us to pretend
we accrue interest from beginning to end,
getting richer because a tiny hole
receives the light-which-contains-the-world,
amusing in storage the slow-gazing soul,
“world” a word to pretend the world exists,
“soul” the word which means, “look, I’m really not interested,”
for this is what enriches us today.
“Not interested” saved my life.
Oh God! now trillions are interested.
Can you please go away?