I have no friends.
My friends have no friends.
On the way to a wedding
I don't want to attend
I pass a homeless person
scuffing along
and I think,
I could do that.
I need never go
to a wedding again.
My solutions are more drastic
than my problems.
All my friends are friendless.
They cannot be counted on.
I cannot be counted on.
Whatever it is I count,
there is always one missing.
Or two. Or more.
Or else there's an extra.
I cannot concentrate.
My friends cannot concentrate.
There is an underlying noise,
a whirring sound in this world,
a waterless sound.
It catches me off-guard,
though when I strain to hear it,
as I do now,
I cannot hear it.
My friends cannot hear it.
I have no friends.

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I really did write this poem on my way to a wedding I didn't want to go to. But I had so much fun with the poem that by the time I arrived at the ceremony, I didn't care anymore. Who says poetry doesn't matter?