They is me. I am unknown.
They don’t need me; I’m done.
The time of me is over.
There are more I’s than I know.
I know them. Call me they.
It’s the time of appropriation.
I’m taking over you and all you
Seen from here.
From now on, I’m them.
I’m not myself.
They is what I am not.
I can’t see me.
I no longer know what’s mine.
They can’t reach me and neither can you.
It’s a time of the collective.
I like them.
Life is a collaboration. Time
of the unit; every action a project.
I have no idea of their plan but it’s
mine. The sign that I’m them is you.
You are seeing double.
We’re through with me. I’m over.
They can’t see me. They don’t see me.
See it through. The names are gone.
Along with me is you. We’re done, too.
I am they. Say there they go. They are here.
They is a vast improvement over me. I’m lost.
They will live from now in Bowling Green.
The entire city is in the witness protection program.
They live to hide me.
I love her and she doesn’t like me.
I received a letter addressed to me and forwarded it to them.
NPR plays twenty-four hours a day.
Time to wake up. It’s noon.
There is no time to sleep.
David Lohrey’s plays have been produced in Switzerland, Canada, and Lithuania. His poems can be found at The Dead Mule School, Expat Press, Terror House, and New Orleans Review, along with the University of Alabama, Illinois State, and Michigan State University. His fiction appears in Storgy Magazine, Terror House Magazine, and Literally Stories. David’s first collection of poetry, Machiavelli’s Backyard, was published in 2017. His newest collection, Bluff City, appeared this month, published by Terror House Press.