Out there, somewhere
you have real faces, like
or unlike, mine. People
I pass on the street
might be you. They are
all going somewhere. I, too
am going somewhere.
Sometimes our eyes meet
but only for a moment.
Was that you I saw
last month, at the airport
going to Buenos Aires, or Seattle?
Was that you behind me
in line at the supermarket
buying wine and flowers,
oranges from Florida, avocados
from Brazil?
Do I know you?
My face is a keyhole.
Your face is a key.
This little glass contains
the world, unlocked.
(For all you bloggers, who are also friends, out there, somewhere....)
5 comments:
they are all moving so fast...
sometimes one slows down
and does something beautiful
or odd
or unkind
and moves back into the stream again.
we wish to know each other
and bear witness.
Hey P,
Is that you, nice to meet you! Funny you never know when you meet someone in passing , if they are someone you casually know. I like your writing in this piece. :)
Rick, this is so beautiful...we wish to know each other/and bear witness.
I wish I had written it all--a better ending than mine is!
Jo, thank you. Yes, c'est moi!
Very nice poem. I like this line,
"real faces, like
or unlike, mine."
And it's so good to have you on Facebook!
I just don't know what to say beyond "I LOVE THIS. The picture. The words. It really struck me hard. Strong identification going on here.
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