artist / theater-maker / poet / dork

how we know each other

You were in browns and heather grays
that looked soft to the touch
and I wore what I always wear.
 
I didn’t– no: we didn’t know each-other
and yet here we were together
by the button for the blind.
 
We waited for the light to change
you on the step, and me already by the out-of-service bus
for I was wanted elsewhere.
 
I only watched their light
Once it was red I didn’t wait for mine
I strode ahead; I hoped you didn’t mind.
 
That’s why I look familiar:
We crossed the street together once.
And how have you been since?

untitled (night view, store front with pennants)
w. eugene smith, 1955-56

if you want to reach me,
leave me alone

-sheryl crow (a change would do you good)​