sometimes, the air thickens with the salt of it
the cursory glance, the awkward smile
the wavering saunter,
the casual causality of accidents
this is our doom/this is our salvation
that we are not in control
of this glorified swamp barge, that
sometimes, the air quickens with the pulse of it
and the vagaries of circumstance
they may bring us together once.
if ever you tire, brother,
wave your hands in the electrical breeze,
and wait for the currents to push and drag
and force us into the same eddying pool.
hello/I love everyone
with their wrinkled shirts,
their creased grins, dangling participles,
their good intentions, better inattentions.
we are not all of us a wellspring of hope,
exactly, but a struck bargain,
a careful truce with the wide swaths of loneliness,
a complex bet on us rather than our selves.
Labels: Fred
7/22/2007 06:43:00 PM