Imagine that I could weave knowingly
through faces blurred, collected
lightly touching but not committing
dancing over investments and plans and
knocking things over here and there
holding on to the hem of your shirt as
you walk away
is that it? are we done?
Imagine my ark of the familiars, my
ushering in of the great ones, the ones that looked me in the eye
so they are within arm's reach
and would come if I called, in seconds.
See it as a house with no right angles,
where I am surely supported by lattices of hands and elbows where it
is not frowned upon to sip whiskey from a coffee mug
and the strung-together words tumble
out too quickly for anyone to really understand, but we get it
oh, we get it, yes! of course
It is important to be fast here, so
fast, to deliver the message in time
because we are slipping by so quickly,
unmoored almost as soon as we arrive, the perceived urgency of
purpose making us into equal and like charges.
here we are, and we are beautiful, and
we are so hurried, needing, perpetually about to leave.
I have touched and hugged and, at my
worst, waved
to too many of those who are about to
leave.
and did we cover it all? I'm not sure,
I'm never sure.
I will stand dependably and happily
nearby, watching
bewildered, because it seems like in
the space between two heartbeats
against the white noise formed by the
shuffles of feet on wood paneling
and the muffled creaks of bodies
settling onto cheap furniture
we all acknowledged that this expires,
this belonging
we tacitly sold this moment to memory.
