is there anything
more precious
than silent looks
between strangers
that you can’t understand
except to understand
that they
at least
get the full story.
communication
without the confusion of language
is the most pure.
that two people
in this isolation of
only self, self
and self can break
free
and connect
across the gulf.
after all we all
basically need
the same things.
a uniformity.
a curse.
raincoats when it rains.
lies when things are bad.
lies when things are good.
hearing orchestras
or miles davis
and feeling it all
like a sauna
and smelling meadows
and the bustle of cities,
or lost in divots
of abstract paint
and hearing the tumult
of oceans and snow storms
meaning passed
with movement
and smell
and feeling.
back
where the whole saga
began.
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