This curvature
a cup,

filled and
emptied.

Washed and
filled
again.

Quite often, I find myself more alone in a group than off by myself.  Seems I'm not alone in this feeling, either.  Silly primates, we.

Red car
Red car
coasting,
gone.

The world is strange from within a lonely pack.  We stick together more, I think, by mutual fear than through mutual acceptance.

Sepia,
aged,
together-

neither smiling.

Sometimes, in our weird state, the past becomes more tangible than the present.  Stranger still, photographs beyond our own memory become familiar.  We stare back through time at unknowns with hope of homecoming.   Backwards.

Three
firefighters
died
today
on
Johnson
Avenue
saving
a
boy.

And other times Being up and wops us over the head at the most unlikely times.  Reading the paper.  Walking down the street.  A stranger on the bus makes eye contact.

Wool blanket,
brown,
get up and dance with me!

What if?

I waited while
you rose higher.

I asked if you were
full and
waited for your reply,

but none came.