Indifference Insurance

I wish they sold indifference insurance.
I am feeling oddly detached from everything
and everyone.
Every conversation or story or joke
is something I've already heard.
My usual haunts have lost their uniqueness.
I stare out at my car in front of my garage.
In a moment of stark insight
I realize even my car is boring.
I find myself seeking excuses
not to leave the house
or the bedroom for that matter.
I turn down the sound and half-watch
hours of panel discussions on TV.
My health is slowly deteriorating and I don't care.
I contribute little of intellect to discourse.
In rare moments I will take note
of a woman
who reminds me of someone else I knew long ago
when I was engaged with the flow of my life.
I would pay steep rates for any insurance
that would compensate me for this ennui.
I'm too bored to get drunk. All I really want to do is watch old movies
by myself
until I fall asleep.